


Minakoless

by Chubby Skater (levi_robbed_my_tea_cupboard)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, And a little bit of angst, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, I shouldn't be doing this omg, I treated Victor so badly I'm almost sorry for him, M/M, Minako apprectiation fic, Minako got married, Minako will appear eventually don't worry, Other tags may be added, Pining, Pole Dancing, Skater Victor Nikiforov, Slow Burn, Yuuri got a decent life but at what cost, also i can't believe it was initailly meant to be Yuuri's POV only, but he tries, but hey don't worry, instead of he doesn't try enough, is this even a term?, it wasn't meant to be but then i write four chapters instead of one and that's how it is, kind of, lol me, nothing's lost in nature, ok i'm not sure if it's slow burn or not, self-fixing universe, something in between, spoilers in tags, typos in tags, what could possibly go wrong, yurio whithout the kick in his as could be a softie is you ask me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 80,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levi_robbed_my_tea_cupboard/pseuds/Chubby%20Skater
Summary: AU in which everything is the same but Minako got married and never moved back to Hasetsu, Yuuri quitted ballet and moved to Detroit to major in modern dance, Victor can't take it anymore and when they eventually meet (by the means of the fate-carrying ballerinas) he thinks it’s a great idea to keep his profession and public life secret as long as possible. Meanwhile the Barcelona GPF is right behind the corner. What could possibly go wrong…





	1. Living in a world without you, part 1: Victor

_December 2014, Sochi_

Just like the four other times, Victor came to the banquet and played his role. If he was making a performance on ice, speaking to sponsors and behaving like a mature and contented with life human being was the role of his life. During last years he had mastered it to perfection, using his body and face as a beautiful shell, but inside he was screaming. The only person who knew and seemed to understand was Chris, but understanding alone did nothing to change the abyss that Victor’s life has become.

The banquet was boring like any other, like Victor’s entire life. There was nothing new to expect, nothing special was going to happen and if the most extraordinary person in the room was he himself, the world must have been an incredibly dull place. Victor smiled to yet another photo, wishing that someone came and took him from the room, someone, anyone, show him a different way of living, of looking at the world. Someone who would see him, not his shell. But no one was coming.

* * *

_Spring 2015, Petersburg _

After making a commotion at the press conference at Worlds and actually informing Yakov that he did consider retiring from skating competitively, Victor found himself on the home ice, surrounded by skaters both younger and more energetic than him. Even Georgi, born literally a day after Victor, seemed engaged in preparing his choreography and lively discussing something with Yakov. Victor thought that maybe that was the reason why they had never become closer friends, that they priorities were going in two opposite directions. While Victor was skating for the audience and judges, Georgi was skating for himself.

Yakov’s annoyed growling pulled him out of his thoughts. Yakov still didn’t forget the scenes Victor had been making about quitting or at least taking a season off. Right after Victor decided to stay Yakov yelled at him about wasting his time and playing idiot. What Yakov didn’t know was that none of his words had any impact on Victor’s decision and the only reason why he stayed was that he had nowhere to go and there was nothing he could do other than skating.

Victor skated towards Yakov but said nothing. Acting for Yakov’s advantage would be too much so he just glared.

“Did you choose the music?” Yakov asked.

He didn’t, obviously, so he only shook his head.

“I want to know your music tomorrow morning.” Yakov said.

“But…”

“Don’t dawdle, Vitya. You could skate to the most cliché song and they would love it. Just choose something.”

_And that is the problem_, Victor thought.

“I’ll try.” Victor said.

“And think about Yuri’s program too.”

“What?” A very surprised “what”, to be precise.

“What what? You promised him a program, didn’t you?”

“I… Did I?”

“As if I didn’t witness you making another stupid promise, Yuri hasn’t stopped talking about it since we’re back. So have some respect to both of us and choreograph it, or at least pretend you do.”

That, for some reason, interested Victor.

“Consider it done.”

Yakov rose an eyebrow, seeing Viktor’s smile for the first time that morning.

* * *

Skating. It was still skating but at least different than before. Not about him. He could work with that. He _wanted_ to work with that. Taking advantage of the fact that he met Yakov first, Victor left the ice and lured in the locker room for Yuri.

“Hey, Yura, over there!” Victor put on his private smile, trying to act as friendly as possible, but still was aware that the smile was hardly reaching his eyes.

Yuri’s eyes beamed for a split second before he gave Victor his signature glare.

“What is it, old man?”

Victor widened his smile, ignoring the name. “Did you choose music for you short program?”

Yuri looked at him confused, than looked all around, as if expecting Mila to jump out of a locker with a hidden camera.

“You mean the short program you’re choreographing for me?”

“Yep, do you see any other short program here?” Victor laughed at his own bad joke and Yuri would mock him for that if he didn’t suspect he was a victim of an even worse joke.

“I can choose the music myself?”

Now it was Victor’s turn to be surprised.

“Yes?”

“Are you serious? Yakov would never let me choose my own music! He always comes up with something boring.”

“There there.” Victor patted the boy a little protectively, understanding better than he wished he would. “Think about something for tomorrow and we’ll start wor…”

“I’ve already chosen!” Yuri squeaked like the excited teenager that he was and took out his phone. “This!”

The beginning notes of “Eye of the Tiger” played from Yuri’s speaker and Victor’s jaw dropped.

“This isn’t a skating song, Yuratchka!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Fine. But think of something else, ok?”

“You can call me The Ru…”

“I mean think of some other music.”

“What’s wrong with it?!”

“It’s not very, you know, skatingshy.”

“Skatingshy? You just made up the word!”

“Maybe. But you know exactly what I mean. Think of something… skateble.”

Yuri gave him a contemptuous look.

“First you tell me I can choose the music, and then you hate it and complain about it. You’re just like Yakov.”

Ouch.

“I’m nothing like Yakov.”

“Yes. Yes you are! You’re becoming the same old man that didn’t know when to move to something else and now torments normal people like me with his old man talks.”

_Ouch_. Even if it wasn’t exactly fair description of Yakov.

“You both always choose some boring, fuzzy music about nothing and then pretend there’s more to that.”

Victor rose a hand to interrupt him, but Yuri didn’t let him.

“You know what? I bet you both hate the song because it would be a challenge to choreograph it and you have no idea where to start, not to mention making a decent routine!”

And so a pin into Victor’s ambition made it.

“Fine! I’ll choreograph the best program to the song.” And it had nothing to do with teasing Yakov in any way. Nothing at all.

* * *

Having chosen an impossible song for Yuri was done. To be honest, a year or two ago Victor would have probably chosen something himself but since he didn’t care it was one pointless decision less to make. So what should he choose for himself? Was it still worth trying to surprise people, to look for something special, something different? Maybe he really should take whatever he heard first in the radio and make it into a routine.

Something cliché, something boring. Something that probably many people before him skated to and will skate in the future. Something _obvious_. And then he got it. The most cliché song for figure skating he could think of. Yakov’s gonna kill him.

Anyway, forget Yakov for a while.

Victor googled “Eye of the Tiger” skating routines and, on Yura’s account, there was _something_ but it wasn’t quite what Yakov would expect and it wasn’t exactly Victor’s taste. Not to mention the few records were from exhibitions and it seemed no one had actually used it for a competition routine_. At least it would be something new_, Victor thought, listening through the song a couple of times and trying to make it out. It wasn’t impossible to do and maybe someone could commission it just on piano? That could work.

* * *

Yakov didn’t have time to kill Victor for his own short program music choice because first he had to do the same for agreeing with Yuri. After whole morning of quarrelling and screams they managed to convince him and all Yakov could do, in his own opinion, was making at least Yuri’s free skate a masterpiece. So he decided to call his ex-wife.

Ups.

Victor thought that agreeing to Yuri’s song request might have been a little bit too much for Yakov’s health. Including mental and his increasing high blood pressure that for some reason jumped drastically over last years. Yakov only lately cooled down after the whole divorce affair which echoed over the rink unlike anything else and at some level stabbed Victor. Without exaggeration he could say that Yakov and Lilia raised him to some extend and definitely were a huge contribution to his success. So it wasn’t _that_ pointless to repeat the old proved method with Yuri but Victor would bet any of his medals that in Yakov’s understanding it was finality.

And then both Yuri and Yakov moved to Lilia’s apartment.

Victor pulled his blanket closer to his chin and tried not to think about it in the way that was intrusively flooding his head. He tried not to think about it in that way and not to visualise how it looked like, a to-date married couple with a teenage boy. And a cat, to complete the picture. It definitely wasn’t playing family, but for Victor, sitting alone in his bed because he hadn’t wanted to wake Makka form her den and so had no one to hug or talk to, it looked exactly like that.

He opened message app and started typing something to Chris. Then deleted it. Then wrote something else and deleted again. Victor put the phone down, took a sip from his steamy cup and rose the phone one last time.

**Victor:** How is it at Lilia’s?

Victor was looking at the phone for a while but Yuri didn’t answer, so Victor did the only thing he had planned for the evening. Yuri’s routine. He had listened through the song a couple of times the other day and even came up with a general idea how the program could look like but, no to lie, he wasn’t sure what it was exactly about.

So he googled it.

He googled it, which lead him do the lyrics, then to its Wikipedia page and so he ended up on an article about _Rocky III_ movie, which Victor didn’t like _in particular_. What the actual fuck? Had Yuri done that on purpose to tease him? Was he that obvious even to a fifteen year old? What the honest fuck?!

* * *

Victor came to the rink earlier then the last week and again lured for Yuri in the locker room. He knew that Yuri was coming before anyone else so he would be able to give him a speech before anyone who could hear them came. He felt personal about that and didn’t really care about not embarrassing Yuri but more about keeping his thoughts to himself. But he needed to make that clear and make sure whether the teenage boy could see through Victor that well or it was a coincidence. Victor didn’t believe for the second option at all and it made him feel exposed.

Bored, Victor started to change into his training clothes and was unfolding his skating socks when Yuri came in.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Yuri seemed annoyed with Victor’s presence. “After World’s you’ve been late to every training, geezer.”

“Waiting for you, _Yuratchka._“ Victor gave him fake sweet smile no. 11.

“Oh.” Yuri said. Maybe it was too early or maybe he didn’t know Victor well enough, because he clearly missed the threat in his voice. “Are we starting with my program today?”

“Speaking of that. You made me work with the song on purpose!”

“Yeah, cause it was my favourite since I was a kid and always wanted to skate to this.”

“And the text is a coincidence?” Victor snorted.

“What are you talking about? About song about a tiger?”

“About what?”

“About a tiger.”

…

………

“Yura. It’s not about a tiger.”

“It’s… not?”

“No.”

…

………

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I was a kid and I didn’t know English!”

“Don’t explain yourself, Yuratchka, I had to google the lyrics myself.”

“Really?” This information was so weird that Yuri forgot to get offended about being called an endearment.

“Yep. Really.”

Cramped English lyrics: 2

Russian skaters: 0

“What is it about then?” Yuri asked.

Victor sighed and sent him a link to the lyrics and Russian translation.

Yuri read and frowned. “So why did you attack me like that?”

Victor hesitated before he answered. “Because it sounds like it was about me and I though you tried to tease me. Or something.”

“Or something?” Yuri snorted. “I’m going to kick you out from the podium this season and then maybe you stop being so egocentric, geezer.”

“But the movie…”

“Whatever. I still want that song.”

Yuri turned to his locker.

“What movie, by the way?”

* * *

Victor made himself comfortable with Makka on the bed and put a huge cup of tea on the nightstand. He pulled down all the window-blinds in his apartment because the sun was getting on his nerves and even added a spoonful of jam to his tea. With all the adjustments, Victor was looking at the screen of his laptop and typing furiously to Chris. Thanks God they could use Messenger without the app, because writing the same complaints on the small screen wouldn’t be that therapeutic, only making Victor feel even more of a trash.

Chris knew Victor well enough to let him end the stream of chopped thoughts before starting the actual conversation, so Victor was tormenting the keyboard in an act of self-pity for a longer while when he got a message. Which would be nothing weird if it wasn’t for the sender. Yuri.

**Victor:** How is it at Lilia’s?

**Yuri:** Weird

**Yuri:** With Yak constantly

**Yuri:** Anyway

**Yuri:** Wanna watch the movie?

Victor stared at the screen. _What?_

**Victor:** Which movie?

**Yuri:** Tiger movie

**Victor:** What?

**Yuri:** Oh you know

**Yuri:** Rocky III

**Victor:** Maybe

**Victor:** Considering it’s where the song I’m making a program for comes from

**Victor:** Sounds like a good idea

**Yuri:** Great

**Yuri:** Me too

Victor took a loud sip of tea and frowned. He might have been just tired, but the conversation felt weird. The three waving dots from Yuri disappeared and Victor switched back into the chat with Chris. He was halfway through Chris’ responses when another message from Yuri came.

**Yuri:** So

**Victor:** So what?

**Yuri:** Can I come over?

Victor stared at the screen completely stupor. Apparently, he stared a little bit too long.

**Yuri:** Nevermind

**Yuri:** Forget it.

**Victor**: Wait

**Victor:** Do you mean tonight?

**Yuri:** Yeah

**Victor:** Isn’t it too late for you?

**Victor:** You know

**Victor:** Lilia and Yak…

**Yuri: **Jeez

**Yuri:** It’s only half past six

**Yuri:** And Friday

**Yuri:** And I bet they’ll be fine if it’s just to your place

**Yuri:** Not that I want to come over that much to YOUR place, I’m sure Lilia won’t let me watch it on her TV

Victor snorted.

**Victor:** Ok, fine, Yuratchka

**Yuri:** Geezer!

**Yuri:** So?

**Victor:** ??

**Yuri:** What’s your address?

* * *

Victor went back to crying to Chris and sunk into it so much that didn’t notice when half an hour passed. He felt like he was texting Yuri just a while ago when his doorbell rang and Victor stiffened. How? Had he teleported? Flown over the roofs? Or worse, had Yakov given him a lift to make sure he was actually going to Victor?

He wouldn’t be that nervous if he had any experience with having guests, but he didn’t. So only hearing the doorbell he realised that his fridge might be kind of empty after the whole week and the only drinks he had were wine and maybe a bottle of vodka for the darkest hour. Perfect.

Yuri came in with his usual nonchalance but shrank when Makkachin jumped towards him, sniffing all over Yuri’s clothes and trying to lick his hands. Once he took of his shoes Yuri gave her a few unsure pets on the top of her head. For some reason Victor enjoyed the show watching them like that. That was until Yuri rose his head and looked at him with a frown.

“Were you sleeping?” Yuri asked, disbelief mixed with something that Victor desperately didn’t want to mark as pity.

“No, why?”

Yuri looked somewhere above Victor and then all over his silhouette and glared meaningfully at the pulled window screens, but said nothing.

After Victor paid for a streaming site account, Yuri chose pizza with impossible amount of toppings and then Victor assured Chris five more times he _was fine_ it was almost eight p.m. Then Yuri had to plug Victor’s laptop to his, quoting Yuri, “unreasonably huge but nice” TV and Victor realised he had to take Makka for her evening walk so the two of them left the flat, leaving Yuri with money for pizza. It was half past eight.

When Victor came back with Makka and a bag of groceries, not one of them being included in his diet plan, Yuri was waiting with the movie’s beginning paused on the TV and pizza set on the table. And a bottle of soda that, of course, he ordered with the pizza. Victor brought a matching bottle with his grocery quarry.

It was well after nine when they eventually started watching the movie. Victor wasn’t very enthusiastic about combat sports at first but after some time he found himself quite engaged in the story. Yuri folded his legs on the sofa and glued his eyes to the screen, obstinately chewing pizza and not looking at Victor, who made himself another tea with as much as three generous spoons of jam and sat at the other end of the sofa. With Makkachin between them, they watched the movie till the end in a relative silence, both feeling a little awkward. It felt weird to knew each other for years but never meet outside of training facilities and hotels, for the first time sharing personal space.

When the movie ended it was almost eleven and Victor wasn’t sure what to do. Yuri stretched and yawning petted Makka but didn’t seem to be willing to get ready to leave. Victor was weirdly convinced Yakov wouldn’t appreciate him letting Yuri hang around the city that late, even if it wasn’t that much darker than during the day. Not that Victor cared about what Yakov appreciated or not, he just had to agree with him at this one point. So he offered to call a cab for Yuri.

Yuri glared.

“I can’t come back like _that_!” He pouted.

Victor tilted his head. “Like what?” Yuri wasn’t drunk, or wasted, or anything indecent, really.

“Smelling like pizza and garlic sauce from a distance. Nevermind Yak, but I hardly survived the first week with Lilia. She’s gonna kill me if she knows I ate one and half a pizza in one go.” Yuri made a face, as if saying it out loud made him actually realise this wasn’t necessarily a part of his nutrition plan.

“Oh.” Victor said. “You should have told me. We could have ordered something healthier.”

Victor’s and Yuri’s eyes met and they both laughed at the same time.

“Can I stay for the night?” Yuri was looking at Makka, not at Victor.

“Sure.” Victor said, wondering where he had put extra pillows and blankets.

* * *

Somehow Yuri coming over for movies became their Friday routine and the more it lasted the less they paid attention to the movies playing in the background. Chris made fun of him at first but after a while he shoved it. It wasn’t as much of a deep honest social interaction that Victor was craving for so desperately, but the evenings with Yuri were what probably extended his sanity for a little bit longer. And Yuri somehow softened after them. Maybe not for everybody but at least for Victor, even if its only sign was that he didn’t try to hide any interest in Victor with the same intensity as he had used to.

They skated together, trained together, watched movies, worked on Yuri’s routine, made fun of Yakov behind his back, even ganged up with Mila and, eventually, with Georgi, after his another huge break up. Victor hadn’t been that close with his rink mates for something like a decade and that felt refreshing. He was more engaged in their routines and progress than his own and if it wasn’t for Yakov’s yelling he would neglect his programs almost completely.

* * *

Victor qualified for the GPF at first place with Yuri, who somehow restrained from giving him tons of shit after losing to Victor at Rostelecom, at fourth, a Canadian skater Yuri seemed to genuinely hate and last season’s Worlds’ silver medallist between them.

Victor came back from Moscow light-hearted and warm inside from piroshky that Yuri for some unknown to the universe reason shared with Victor and Victor only, even though he beat him (which seemed to be not as bad for Yuri as losing to the double J-something from Canada by a fraction of a point).

The blissful state lasted as long as it took from the airport to Victor’s apartment, that without Makka and Yuri felt cold and unwelcome. So he hurried to his befriended neighbours, an elder lady living with her granddaughter, whom Victor had never dared to invite for tea, and who occasionally took care of Makkachin. With his beloved ray of sunshine he went for a long shopping trip, trying to disappear between the grocery shelves and definitely not enjoying other people babbling all over the place.

Once they were back in their apartment Victor immediately turned on the kitchen radio, shoved the groceries to the fridge and fixed a quick supper. Then he sat on the sofa, hugged Makka and started to play with his food, not ever putting a single bite into his mouth.

Victor was not crying. He was definitely not crying, because grown up men didn’t cry to their dogs' embrace, trembling, not quite sure what was the reason that they cried.

Victor was not crying, because Victor was a shell to the world, and shells didn’t cry. Maybe the inner-Victor did cry sometimes for reasons that shell-Victor couldn’t quite get, but inner-Victor had no right to come out to the sunlight, neither had he any reason. Ever.

And yet he cried, he realised. He cried, because it was almost December and in two weeks he’s going to be in Barcelona, which would mean that a year past since Sochi, which would mean that for a year Victor knew there was a problem and neither he had done anything with that nor anyone seemed to notice. During the year nothing had changed. He was still invisible except for his shell and the realisation pained.

In a few days Victor would be on a plane to Barcelona where he would more possibly than not win another gold medal and go to another banquet and pretend again, and again, and again.

And again he would be lonely and no one would talk to him for any reason other than _being seen_ with the Living Legend Victor Nikiforov himself. He would stick to Chris, because other than him there would be only people who idolise him too much to treat him as a person or hate him for keeping his place in rankings.

Victor felt salty taste on his lips and he thought he was pathetic. And since he couldn’t be any more pathetic at that point, he decided to pray, even though he wasn’t a religious person. He prayed for a change, for something, someone, that could make him breath.

He prayed for Yuri to win the Final, even though he knew there was still something missing about his skating, something that was restraining him from skating to his full potential.

He prayed for somebody who could break his shell.

Even if someone was listening, Victor didn’t believe they would answer. And it wasn’t their fault, it was Victor’s, for that he knew it was too late.

Even if they listened, what could they do in less than two weeks? If they made Victor of all people the Living Legend of figure skating, they must have lacked creativity or had a terrible sense of humour.

Even if they answered, Victor eventually fell asleep, cold, sad and exhausted.

It was evening, 23rd of November.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor: I had to google the lyrics.  
Yuri: *googles the lyrics*  
Chubby: Com'on guys, I had to google them too.  
Cramped English lyrics: 3  
Blond/e Slavic asses: 0
> 
> Next chapter we'll see what's up with Yuuri
> 
> I'm my own beta, so if you see any typos or other language abominations please let me know :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥


	2. Living in a world without you, part 2: Yuuri

_December 2014, Detroit_

Yuuri yawned heavily hearing a wave of notifications. He didn’t even bother to check them as they must have been Phichit’s daily wake up insurance. Phichit knew better than leaving Yuuri by himself to get up any time before 8 a.m. and that was one of the days that Phichit’s “service” was a blessing. Yuuri had turned off his actual alarm 20 minutes earlier and was back to sleep by the time his friend reminded about himself.

At least Yuuri’s class wasn’t at 6 a.m., unlike Phichit’s skating practice, but 7.30 still felt like the middle of the night. Yuuri yawned for the last time, got up and put on his glasses. The mess of unmade bed decorated with a few snack wraps and abandoned laptop in the middle reminded Yuuri that Phichit hadn’t slept last night at all, watching a skating competition records from the previous day. Yuuri had watched a few of the first skaters with him but fallen asleep sometime after midnight.

Despite of all the support he had for Phichit, ice skating wasn’t Yuuri’s thing.

Yuuri’s thing was dancing.

Even if performing in front of the audience wasn’t what made him feel his best, once he started it made him feel natural and safe. He liked it better in dancing clubs where he could disappear in the crowd or just in the studio, observing his body in the mirror and making sure it was flawless. It felt like meditation. And, most of all, Yuuri loved sneaking out to the empty studio after all the classes were ended and move for himself, to get rid of his energy and lie breathless on the floor.

Snow was creaking under his feet and coffee cooled down immediately to drinkable temperature, so before he got to the studio Yuuri hardly remembered about the unpleasantness of waking up to the dark sky. He enjoyed walking through the almost empty sidewalks and making first steps on the fresh layer of snow. Just as much he enjoyed the silent warm up before his first class, when they came to the studio but stretched on their own without music or, thanks gods, small talk.

Mia, his partner for most of the classes they made as couples, always came in the last moment, choosing the warm up session at the other end of the corridor, with loud music and even louder instructor that had used to drive Yuuri crazy during his first year. Mia stormed to their studio and jumped in Yuuri’s direction, forcing him to catch her mid-air in a way that they both knew Mia’s boyfriend would not appreciate. Saying nothing they proceeded to the shared part of their warm up and were almost done when the instructor entered the room to start the actual training.

Yuuri took his position with Mia and glanced at the mirror, listening to the sharp voice of their morning teacher cutting the silence. This far into the term she turned the music on after only a few extra instructions and they started dancing.

* * *

Apart from Phichit, someone whom Yuuri could call a close friend was Angela, his pole dance instructor. He’d enrolled for her course at the university for an extra record on his diploma and got so into it that after the course ended he sighed up for extra classes in a fitness club Angela was working at. Yuuri should have known better than accidentally making friends only with people who had the potential to pull him into trouble, but he’d lost the fight the day Phichit had moved into his room. A few months after that Angela messed his life with her too-good-to-miss course and eventually knocked Yuuri out introducing him to her sister, same age as Yuuri and a professional ballerina. They sometimes joked that if he hadn’t switched from ballet to modern he would have met Francesca in the ballet world instead. What Yuuri never joked about was his one-sided crush on Francesca, which he confessed to Phichit one night when he was too drunk to remember and never mentioned it again.

When Yuuri came back to the dorm and saw Angela arm to arm with Phichit on his bed, both giggling hysterically the moment they saw him, he knew he was screwed. He only didn’t know how much.

* * *

_September 2015, Los Angeles_

Yuuri hated that whole situation. He hated that in general, hated Phichit for talking him into coming there and Angela for training his ass off on the house beforehand. Hated the outfit Phichit had chosen for him and wished he could have been invisible for the other people in the green room, all looking professional and covered in much more layers of clothing than Yuuri.

He couldn’t quite understand how he qualified for the semi-final but there he was, sparkling all over the place with the few clothes he’d put on and being alone, since that time Phichit wasn’t allowed to come with him. And all that had been his idea, for that Yuuri had never wanted to sign up for an actual competition, but that wasn’t much better. Maybe that was even worse, because competitions weren’t aired on TV channels with that high rate of viewership. Nevermind that was it an actual competition he would just disappear in a crowd of alike people instead of standing out and internally dying because of that.

Yuuri gulped heavily, remembering that half the reason he quitted ballet was the pressure. Not that there wasn’t pressure in other types of training but there in the ballet world it was so obviously mentally incriminating that Yuuri couldn’t handle it in the long run. He didn’t want to force himself to handle it because he felt deep inside it wasn’t worth to sacrifice his life and body to something he loved only partially.

So what, he had run from ballet only to end up there, watching in oblivion as scene technicians were installing three poles just for him alone to do _things_ in front of cameras. Yuuri didn’t hear the voice of the host asking questions and he only partially registered that he said _something_ and that it was all recorded. He took a few deep breaths and heard the host asking him go to out on the stage so he did, feeling lights flashing and highlighting his naked skin, and hoping not to sweat. He heard a couple of whistles and it felt intimidating, just what he had expected.

Yuuri loved pole dancing because it made him feel strong and stretchy and gave a great opportunity to pull his body in a ways he couldn’t find in other styles. What Yuuri didn’t love about pole dancing was the obvious sexual association that was as far away from his motivations as possible. Sure, he could use it one day for _somebody,_ but on the regular basis he didn’t mean it to be sexual at all. Of course he wore hardly any clothes, because that’s how you get friction, and of course some of the moves looked in a specific way but so did the moves in many other styles and yet…

The crowd calmed down and Yuuri could swear he heard Phichit’s screaming from the audience right before somebody from the jury started the stage small talk. It was better than the previous times, when Yuuri had to “present himself” but still he wished he could just go out right before the music started and do his thing.

* * *

Yuuri didn’t make it to the final, which left a bittersweet mix of disappointment and relief in his mouth. That night there were so many other talented people performing next to him that he didn’t even feel that bad about losing to such great competition. Even though, Yuuri started to mentally prepare for Phichit’s tirade on why Yuuri was worlds better than any of them.

Final balance sheet of Yuuri performing in the show seemed rather zeroed. On the negative side costing Yuuri a lot of time and money instead of earning them, but on the positive he had to admit it was a great experience to put in his CV and Phichit’s delight was priceless. That was it seemed balanced until he got a phone from a music company inviting him for a casting for a clip and winning the casting. Yuuri didn’t consider getting several dozens of seconds in a music video a life achievement but it definitely helped with restoring his budged after the wild America’s Got Talent journey.

Extra bonus was also Thomas, Mia’s boyfriend, who for some reason stopped acting jealous whenever they had to stay up late for practice. Yuuri hadn’t really blamed him for that. On their first year they’d even gone out once for Mia’s request but there was no chemistry between them and they ended up laughing over a TV series with Phichit and some other students from Yuuri’s dormitory. But after his infamous at the campus performance Thomas chilled and acted as if he almost liked Yuuri. Almost.

Thanks to the video fee Yuuri could afford to go and visit his family in Japan. He even thought about tagging Phichit along with him, which opportunity he rejected the moment he imagined Phichit ganging up with Mari and keeping teasing him about the clip for the whole week. Yuuri had already lost hope that no one in Hasetsu would ever discover his pole dance episode. Even though it wasn’t that unlikely someone would watch his performances from America’s Got Talent they were innocent nothing compared to the clip. Clip in which he would be unrecognizable if it wasn’t for Phichit’s unasked social media PR. Damn Phichit.

* * *

_November 2015, Detroit_

It was one of their lunch days and Yuuri was late. Not that he wasn’t late most of his life, but Angela loved teasing him about it, just like about anything else. Sometimes Yuuri was convinced that she was just an extension of Mari in his American life, one of many ways the world had invented exclusively to make fun of him. Yuuri looked through the café, looking for an extraordinary amount of dark hair, but couldn’t see her anywhere. Halfway to a table the door opened again and Angela run into the café, looking slightly messy with two sport bags and unbuttoned coat.

Once they sat and ordered Angela gave him a trouble-promising look.

“Sooo… Yuu-ri, you’re graduating in the next semester, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any job you’re trying to get?”

Yuuri _loved_ those questions.

“Not really for now. I was thinking about going to rehearsals and look for a company for a while but rather after the finals. Why?”

“Wouldn’t you try partnering Esca?”

Yuuri laughed into his water. _Oh yes._ And _oh no._

“I haven’t been doing strict ballet for over 4 years, they wouldn’t hire me.”

“They aren’t looking for someone for a regular ballet company. More like a side project of their choreographer. And, you see, Esca has already recommended you.”

_Of course she did._

“Well, I can try this.” Yuuri shrugged. “When’s the rehearsal?”

“In January. But it’s in Russia so if you want to get there you’ll have to apply for the visa earlier. What’s that look?”

“Even if I wanted and managed to move some classes from January I don’t have the money to fly all the way to Russia and back for a mare chance to get an engage.”

Angela gave him a happy smile.

“If you get the visa, I can help with that.”

“There’s no way…”

“Yuu-ri, I’m not going to pay for your ticket. But I can look for cheaper flights and connections for you. Like, you know, much cheaper. And you can stay at Esca’s so it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Considering how much Angela has been travelling here and there and that she couldn’t earn that much from teaching dance alone she might have her ways of getting the cheaper tickets. But then there was another thing. Staying at Esca’s. They haven’t seen each other for a while and Esca had never shown a sign of interest for Yuuri but he had never really get over his feelings.

“So it’s in Petersburg.”

“The rehearsals, yes, one of them. The two others will be in Moscow but further into the semester.”

“And the performances?”

“I’m not sure but Esca said something about Europe in general. So I think it’s gonna be more like a travelling troupe. I’m not sure.”

Yuuri looked at her confused. Why would someone from the opposite side of the globe want to hire him of all people to dance for crowds in _Europe_? It made no sense. Unless it was just Angela’s and Esca’s talking and all he would do would be wasting his savings to fly all the way to Russia and make a fool out of himself in front of… in front of whom?

“Who’s Esca dancing under anyway?” Yuuri knew he should remember that.

“I’m not sure.” Angela admitted again. “Text her and she’ll give you the details.”

“Right.”

“I mean it, Yuu-ri. I’m going to tell Peach so he won’t let you sleep unless you do it.”

“Oh my God, not this again!”

“Hah, definitely this again. I knew you agreed so that I’d stop talking about it.”

Yuuri crossed his arms but inside he was curious. After all, the graduation was almost there and he had to move on.

* * *

“Yuuri!”

“Yuuuuuuuriiiiii!”

“YUUUUUURIIIIII!!!”

“Nanpe’ch? Wha’s’t?” Yuuri had such a nice dream. There was someone smiling softly and something incredibly fluffy under his fingers in his dream. Why Phichit had to wake him up?

“You know I’m a pacifist, right?”

Yuuri was too sleepy to disagree so he nodded.

“But I swear, if you don’t answer your shitty phone I'll kill it.”

Yuuri shrugged and dropped heavily onto his pillow, hearing his ringtone and ignoring it.

“YUURI!” Phichit answered the phone. “Stop calling Ang, I can’t wake him.” Pause. “Oh, right.”

Yuuri hummed happily when Phichit got quiet and disappeared in the bathroom. He was hugging his pillow tighter when a wave of cold went through his body and he jerked up. Phichit was standing above him with a still dropping glass, hiding satisfaction behind apologetic smile.

“Sorry Yuuri, but Angela’s calling you for half an hour and you were impossible to wake up.”

“What can be so important to wake me up at, um, what in the morning?” Murmured very unimpressed Yuuri.

“Ask _her_, I’m going back to sleep.” Phichit shoved Yuuri’s phone into his hand and retreated to his bed.

“Hello?” Yuuri growled to the phone.

“Yuu-ri, finally!” dealing with Angela’s enthusiasm was the last thing he wished for in that moment.

* * *

Yuuri entered the airport alone, clothed in two pairs of pants and three T-shirts, armed in a single carry on, a last minute business visa, a handful of boarding passes and significantly less money on his back account then a few days earlier.

It was evening, 27th of November.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if it shows, but this world building information drop costed me quite a lot of research, staring at 2015's November calendar over and over again like a stupid and about 400 kcal worth hot cocoa
> 
> Guess who meets whom in the next chapter o.o *♥*


	3. Worlds collide

_29th of November, Petersburg_

The flight Angela booked for him might have been cheap, but including all the breaks it was also almost 36 hours long, with two transfers in the US and three in Europe, only to end up in Riga, where he had to take a coach to Petersburg. On Angela’s account it was really affordable, but it was also the end of November, when the air was piercing cold almost everywhere where Yuuri ended up, Malaga being the only exception and also his shortest transfer. So when he met Esca at the bus station in Petersburg he felt tired and crumpled, and sleepy even though he tried to sleep through most of his flights (In economic class? Impossible.)

“Yuuri!” Esca hugged him bear style, completely ignoring the fact she was 20 centimetres shorter than Yuuri and tugged him towards another bus, one of public transport. There they had to wait twenty minutes before it left, freezing their fingers off.

Esca grabbed his shoulders and looked at him from her arms distance.

“I need to tell you something. Just don’t get mad, ok?” She said.

“Just don’t tell me I came all the way here for nothing and I’ll be fine.” Yuuri moaned.

Esca laughed nervously.

“I know I told you the first rehearsal is on Wednesday, but there’s an event or something next week and Madam Lilia won’t have much time later, so…”

“So?”

“So we arranged your first showing tomorrow.” Esca grinned, visibly happy with her doing.

“What?!” Yuuri wasn’t happy about it at all.

“It won’t be on the actual scene but in the studio but it should be fine. Madame Lilia agreed, anyway.” Esca shrugged, as if the fact that Madame Lilia agreed to something was the end of any discussion.

Yuuri gave her a stern look.

“Tomorrow I’m going to sleep off the hell Angela just got me through.”

Esca looked amused.

“I got you practice time tomorrow at eight and the rehearsal will be in the afternoon. Unless Madame Lilia decides she needs to see more, then we’ll arrange something. You can sleep it off on the flight back home, right?”

Yuuri moaned.

* * *

Victor wasn’t sure how had that actually happened that he ended up joining Yuri in the ballet studio. He only remembered Yakov mumbling something about Victor slacking during trainings and that at his age some extra stretch might be useful, which Victor would almost be offended about if he actually cared. He used to attend Lilia’s classes when he was younger, so the unforgiving training regime wasn’t a surprise to him, which couldn’t be said about Yuri, who half a year later still didn’t stop complaining about her after every class.

Ballet was one more thing to get him closer to Yuri than he'd used to be at the rink. Despite their obvious age difference Yuri started treating him more like a friend and less like an idol and competitor hybrid, which Victor was grateful for. Even if the only person in the city who was seeing in him more than the world champion was an angry, hormonal fifteen year old, Victor was going to hold onto that.

For the first time Victor came to the studio before Yuri or Lilia. The last couple of days after Moscow spending time in his apartment was unbearable and he’s been catching every excuse to leave. The last week he’d been staying at the rink till the closing hours, under the excuse of polishing his programs and helping Yuri, which gave Yakov wrong impression that Victor had gotten better. Then he’d been taking Makka for long night walks, as he was back only at midnight and she’d been walked before by his neighbors, giving Victor one more pretext to despise himself.

Saturday had been breakfast in a café, with Makka by his side who'd eaten most of it and moving to another café, where Victor’d spent almost three hours pretending he’d been working on his laptop and internally screaming. Long enough for somebody to recognise him and ask for an autograph, which two years ago Victor would consider fine, cute maybe, but that time it'd scared him of and he'd fled the café once he'd singed the notebook.

Flushed from the café Victor had tried shopping, which at times could rise his spirits, even if only for mare minutes, but it hadn’t took him long to realise he couldn’t care less and all he'd been willing to get were dog toys. Well, not just dog, he'd also gotten something for Yuri’s cat, he wasn’t a monster after all. And he had an excuse to come to Lilia’s for a while…

Victor had came back to his apartment and cried to Chris over messenger, rejecting every skype call his friend attempted to make. Then he'd stopped responding Chris’ ridiculous suggestions that he should see a doctor. Victor had already known that, he just couldn’t gather himself to do it.

In the evening Yura had kicked his door open, carrying take out containers and something suspiciously resembling a baking tray. He'd even managed to withdraw his comments that must have formed in his head seeing Victor messy with two blankets on the sofa, and shopping bags half unpacked by Makka, so the toys were all over the floor.

Victor couldn’t recall what they’d been watching that evening or if they’d watched anything at all, he only remembered being forced food, Yuri, that traitor, facetiming with Chris and quarrelling about something by the phone. Victor had woken up on the coach, with Makka on his legs and Yuri loudly putting a cup of coffee on the table before hed waved Victor goodbye.

Spending Sunday on autopilot Victor couldn’t fall asleep at night. He'd been so tired of it, tired of his thoughts, of being alone, of tiring Makka, at her age, through the entire city, of the pity he'd seen in Yuri’s eyes. He'd just wanted to fall asleep but he couldn’t have even that. So he'd gone to the gym to get rid of the leftovers of his energy, to feel the good kind of exhaustion and fall onto bed feeling his muscles pumping. Instead he'd left a teary track on the treadmill and not much more, realising he hadn’t eaten anything that day.

Eventually he must have fallen asleep, because he'd been woken up by Yakov calling at 10 a.m. and screaming to the phone. Victor had been late for practise. Whatever. Having no energy after a day of unconsciously starving himself he'd flushed down his stomach double espresso and tried to drink some milk. He'd noticed Yuri’s baking try in the fridge, which contained a layered cake. Victor had cut out a huge piece and swallowed in big chunks, without registering the taste. At least the carbs would keep him going for a while and survive the training.

Victor turned on the light and went to Lilia’s locker room to change. The front door opened right after and he heard a chatter in English with weird accents. One of the people, a women, giggled and a dark haired man entered the locked room. The light flushed in his glasses and Victor couldn’t see his eyes, but when he took off the layers of clothing, Victor saw well trained body with impeccable dancer’s posture. The man sighted heavily and leaned back unlike any ordinary mortal should be able to and that was when he finally noticed Victor and jumped straight.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t seen you!” The man said, bowing slightly, and Victor felt embarrassed, after all it was him staring at the man without a world.

“No, no, it’s my fault!” Victor said.

“I’m so nervous about the rehearsal I wasn’t thinking…”

“Rehearsal?”

“For the summer shows.”

“Summer shows?” What summer shows? Did he go to the wrong studio?

The man’s blush deepened.

“Madame Baranovskaya’s…”

“Ah, right, this.” Victor still had no idea what he was talking about and tried to make it up with a smile. “I’m here just for practice. Don’t bother yourself.”

“Thanks.” That didn’t seem to calm the man. “I’m Yuuri, by the way.”

“Victor.”

_“Yeah, I know who you are.”_

_Victor kept his smile and laughed dryly, pretending to be embarrassed and internally dying._

_“Right. Sometimes I forget people associate my face.”_

_Yuri looked away._

But this time it happened only in Victors head. The other Yuri smiled, which made his flushed cheeks look soft and chubby, in contrast to the rest of his body. A part of Victor, the inner, stifled part, wanted to poke them.

The other Yuri disappeared in the toilet before the inner Victor could break through the shell.

Victor left the locker room and started his warm up but after a while he felt a poke on his back. It was the other Yuri.

“Don’t you want to try something different for that?” He asked and Victor had no idea what he meant.

“For what?”

Yuri looked like he considered something.

“For the stretch.” He waved his hands towards Victor’s arm pressed to the floor. “Sorry, I thought you may be new to this and you can actually do i…”

“It shows I’m new?” Victor couldn’t help grinning like stupid.

“You looked rather stiff in the locker room.” Yuri swallowed.

“Because I am. I don’t usually do ballet.”

Yuri was observing the other Yuri frowning, arms crossed. Victor felt offended that the kid dared to look at him in this manner, as the other Yuri was flying through the studio at times barely touching the floor. He was in the middle of a pirouette when the music suddenly changed from a classical ballet song to a modern tune and so did his dancing, from fluid movements to jerky but perfectly coordinated ones. He ended the program with an instrumental version of a popular song that Victor couldn’t resist humming.

Lilia’s face stayed unamused, like always, but Yuri was staring at the Asian with confusion. Then the other Yuri took a couple of sips form his water bottle, pressed something on his phone and came back to the dance floor, lied in a starting position and stiffened. The music started to play again and Victor couldn’t resist peeking at Lilia. The breakdancing mix wasn’t necessarily what he had suspected her appreciating but her face stayed focused as she observed the other Yuri balancing just above the floor on one strong arm and doing incredible things with his body.

Victor appreciated the first program much more but this one was more of fun and a strength demonstration. So not surprising that Yura was looking at him with his jaw dropped. There was a glimpse of something in his eyes which could be both envy and worship.

The other Yuri ended the second program suddenly, going from a strong posture and definite moves to a lump of well stretched meat, as if someone cut his strings of. He kept the position-not-position for a few seconds and stood up, bowing to Lilia.

“That was…” Victor started, but wasn’t allowed to end.

“Awesome!” Yura screamed enthusiastically. “How do you even…” He didn’t end the sentence because his eyes met Lilia’s stern look and Yura became silent.

“Very well” was Lilia’s entire comment. Victor could swear the other Yuri startled. “I want you to prepare something for the day after tomorrow with Francesca and we’ll be done with the rehearsals. You’ll get our response after the official casting is over, unfortunately.”

“Thank you, Madame.” The other Yuri bowed.

“You’re free to go now.” Lilia said and he started to collect his things. “Unless you want to stay for the class, that is.”

Victor’s inner child woke up at the proposition.

The other Yuri and the woman, Francesca, stayed for the class, the first just as a student and the later as Lilia’s assistant. Deceived by Francesca’s petite posture and sweet face Victor suffered whenever she approached him, not less demanding than Lilia, but seemingly finding pleasure in making people break their spines. Lilia spent most of the lesson making notes and tormenting the other Yuri, who seemed resistant to her merciless methods. By the end of the training Victor completely forgot about his ongoing existential problem, breathing heavily in the safe of the locker room and wishing Francesca would never assist their sessions with Lilia again.

* * *

When Madame Lilia proposed him to stay for the class, Yuuri lost his hope for any rest. All he wanted was coming back to Esca’s room, throw himself on a mattress and sleep. Even shower wasn’t that high on his priorities list. But when a former prima ballerina who’s considering hiring you offered you a free lesson you couldn’t refuse it. So Yuuri had to stay for another one and half an hour in the studio, trying his best not to look miserable and making whatever Madame Lilia requested, hardly aware of the presence of Esca and the two blonde Russians. Once they were done and Lilia stopped asking him questions Yuuri thanked her and run to the locker room.

Yuuri sat on a bench and his legs were shaking from overtraining and the sweat cooling down on his clothes. He really needed to rest. Sleep for something like twelve hours, before that any preparations with Esca be damned. He changed in amok, hardly noticing Victor and the boy speaking and muttered back a goodbye. Back in Esca’s flat he fell onto the mattress facedown and didn’t move until the late winter sun shone through the windows.

* * *

Victor felt like slapped on his face when the cute Asian boy completely ignored him, answering for all his questions and propositions with a “Bye” and leaving. It wasn’t that Victor liked him in a particular way and hands leading Victor during the stretches the other Yuri led him through definitely hadn’t left invisible marks on Victor’s skin. Definitely not. But after all his help, interrupted by Yura and Lilia coming, Victor felt obligated to repay somehow. Even in his worst state and the darkest hour he was going to stay a gentleman. That was what he tried to believe.

“Are you coming?” Yura was irreplaceable when it came to pulling Victor out of his thoughts.

“Did he just ignore us?” Victor whined.

“Who cares?” Yura definitely didn’t want to admit his awe for the other Yuri. Oh.

“Sure not you. Aren’t you afraid after the performance he’ll replace you as Lilia’s _new favourite Yuri_?”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t do the dramatic teenager again.” Victor closed the door behind them, making sure Lilia won’t hear them. “I’m sure Lilia won’t kick you out to make place for the other, _better_ Yuri.” Victor teased.

“His name is Yuri?” Did Yura’s eyes just shine?

“Yep. And that was a rehearsal for Lilia’s Summer Tour Something Blah Blah. Feeling endangered now?”

Yuri snorted but said nothing.

* * *

Yuuri’s romantic feelings for Esca were bursting one after another every time she was giving him a mocking look, dragging him out of the bed for practice or forcing a celery smoothie (gross af!) until there was left nothing but pure friendship. She was definitely a great partner to work with, the encouraging and pushing to his limits type, but not a life partner Yuuri could keep up with. That he knew after less than 48 hours of living in her room. So while he was stressed about how little time they got to present their partnership on the dancefloor, Yuuri also couldn’t wait for the moment he would be able to collapse for good after that. That was unless Madame Lilia invited him for another session after their show, gods save!

His evolving emotions didn’t change anything in their dancing adjustment and Esca was really easy to work with, significantly lighter than Mia and willing to try new solutions. When the Wednesday afternoon came Yuuri was much calmer than during the first showing, completely relying on Esca. Maybe part of that was her ensure that despite what Yuuri thought the first part went actually good. But also Madame Lilia didn’t seem as scary as people described her.

Yuuri’s self-confidence was another bubble to burst when he left the locker room and saw not just Lilia, but two other woman and a mid-aged man seated next to each other on the side of the studio. He gulped, feeling the adrenaline pumping to his muscles and tried to act chill. He could do that.

* * *

After two days spent on nursing his definitely-not-depression and crying to Chris, that time about being ignored by a cute boy, Victor was blessed with seeing said cute boy again. He saw a glimmer of the messy black hair above baby blue T-shirt, changed in hurry and jumped to the studio. Victor knew he was earlier but hadn’t expected Lilia’s performance team to be there, almost complete.

The other Yuri was warming up with Francesca on the opposite side of the room and Victor wanted to join them, but Lilia’s discreet gesture invited him to their table. Victor followed and leaned with nonchalance on the windowsill, as there wasn't any chair left.

The pair started shortly after Victor came. They presented a consistent modern routine with strong ballet influence and numerous lifts that the other Yuri seemed to do effortlessly. The arrangement was quite simple, but given they had less than two days to prepare themselves, it was quite impressive.

They were dancing when Yura came to the studio and joined them in the “audience” nook. To Victor’s surprise, he took out his phone and stealthily turned on the camera.

The routine ended with the pair congealed in an undone kiss, then after few seconds Francesca burst out laughing and the other Yuri caught his knees, heavy breathing and dripping sweat on the floor.

Lilia’s team stayed silent, the two other woman making notes and the man checking out a video camera.

Lilia clapped her hands.

“Thank you very much Francesca, Mr Katsuki. That will be all for now.” She said.

The other Yuri bowed deeply, thanking the team for their time and losing his tongue during that.

And Lilia… Did Lilia _smile_?

“Do you have any plans for tonight, Victor?” She asked.

“No?” Victor said before he remembered to bite his tongue. Lilia hated when her students answered her questions with more questions.

“Good. Then change back to your clothes and show Yuuri around the city. We seriously consider hiring him and that won’t be possible if Francesca tires him to the point of no return before he'd even got chance to work with us.” Both Yuuri and Francesca burned.

“Madame!” Francesca outraged but Lilia only waved her hand for that.

Yura was halfway to the locker room trying to contain his smile when Lilia stopped him. “Not you, Yuri. I didn’t cancel _your_ training!”

“Da.” Yura spit our through his teeth.

* * *

Recharging part of his batteries Yuuri started noticing things about Victor he hadn’t noticed when they’d met first. How he was looking with pure cordiality in his so-so blue eyes. How his upper lip lowered slightly in the middle. His gossamer hair, with so little pigment it seemed almost grey. Slack yet elegant moves. Oh, no. Yuuri shouldn’t be thinking about him like that. He'd shaken off his Esca thing only a dozen hours earlier. Even if once and for all.

Besides, there was also the other side of things he noticed in Victor. His slightly crooked posture. Dry, cracked skin on his knuckles. Flushed nose. Chapped lips. Tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Circles under them, redness within them. None of them making him ugly, they only made Yuuri want to touch. Oh. No.

“Yuri?” The funny way he was pronouncing his name.

“It’s fine.” Yuuri said. “You don’t have to show me around.”

“What do you mean?” Was it just Yuuri, or was Victor actually disappointed?

“Um…” Yuuri dreamed of falling asleep then and there and he really didn’t want to impose. Victor looked like someone who had his own problems. “Did Madame Lilia actually mean that?”

“What else could she mean?” Victor asked.

“In Detroit, I mean I study in Detroit and there sometimes… Well, people say such things to be polite.”

Victor’s finger went to his mouth and he seemed crestfallen.

“That makes no sense.” He finally said.

“Yeah, I know. But after a few years I got used to that, so…”

“You don’t wanna go?” If Yuuri didn’t know better he would thought Victor was _very_ disappointed.

It made no sense, to hang around the city sleep deprived, 5℉ outside, the dark, snow and Esca’s garish training bag hanging on his shoulder and yet…

“I want.” Yuuri wanted. Or he didn’t want. For some reason, was it the pouted mouth Victor made at the mention of him not wanting to go or the blue of his eyes, so warm compared to Esca’s, Yuuri didn’t want to go and never see the man again. “How about we go somewhere warm? And with food?”

To Yuuri’s surprise Victor beamed. “This way.” He said, leading Yuuri to the back of the building rather than to the bus stop.

“A shortcut?”

“Kind of.” Victor giggled and Yuuri did _not_ store it as a precious memory.

Victor’s shortcut was a car.

“Oh, that’s convenient.” Why Yuuri had to be so awkward?

But Victor seemed not to notice and prized him with another giggle. “Won’t you say, Yuri?”

“It’s actually Yuuri.”

“Yuuuuri?” Yuuri had to be really tired, because so many people before Victor had pronounced it like that and yet it was the first time Yuuri thought it sounded sexy.

“A little bit shorter. And without the weird twist at the end.”

“Yuu-ri.” Victor tried again, starting the engine.

“You almost got it.” Yuuri prised.

“Yuuri.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. So it’s different than Yuri.”

“Yuri?”

“Yuri is Russian. It’s more like Yuriy actually. You have to kind of fold your tongue at the end. Yuuri and Yuri-y”

“Yuri-y sounds as if you were choking.”

Victor laughed.

“Say that to Yuri and he’ll kick your ass.”

“Your little partner?”

“And add he’s little to double the effect.” Victor said. “Oh, and Yura’s not my partner.”

“Makes sense. You make a weird couple.” Yuuri admitted. “He’s a kid but seems to look up to you a lot.”

“I’m his ri…, eh, choreographer.” Victor spitted out.

“Oh.” Yuuri blushed. “Then sorry for earlier. You should have told me.”

“About Yuri?”

“About the fact that I was correcting you in the studio and you probably know much more than I.”

“No, Yuuri, you got it wrong. I mean for skating. On ice. It’s Yuri’s debut year and I choreograph his short program.”

“Is he good?”

“Yeah, we all have high hopes for him.”

Yuuri rested his head on a window and let himself sigh. He felt so tired. He closed his eyes only for a minute to let them rest, only that. Victor’s car was so comfortable and got wonderfully warm.

“Oh no!” The next thing Yuuri registered was Victor’s moan. He parked the car in front of a modern apartment building and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

“What happened?”

“I forgot we were supposed to go somewhere else and I drove back home. I’m so sorry.” Victor’s disappointment with himself was adorable. “But it’s fine.” Victor tried to convince himself. “Where do you wanna go? A café? Or a fancy restaurant? Indie steak house? Vega…”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri couldn’t contain his yawn. “It’s my first time in the city and all I’ve seen so far was the studio. And Esca’s flat.” Yuuri yawned again. “Sorry, I haven’t slept properly for over a week. Could you just drive to… Shit. Esca’s got the keys.” Esca kept the keys. And Yuuri was being stupid and awkward, and rude falling asleep in Victor’s car. What a great way to make friends with hot Russian cakes!

Distorted assessment of the situation due to sleep deprivation? Not really. Yuuri being Yuuri? Definitely.

* * *

Victor hadn’t fallen for Yuuri watching him undress in the locker room. He hadn’t fallen for him the moment he'd realised Yuuri had no idea who Victor was, and that alone was hot and alluring in its own twisted way. Hadn’t fallen for him watching him dance, no matter how mesmerizing and making him _want_ it was. And not when speaking to Yuuri had come out to be the easiest thing Victor had ever done. No, all of that was hardly relevant compared to the view of Yuuri playing with Victor’s dog. As if Makkachin was the most important and precious creature in the universe and deserved all the attention in the room. Not that Victor didn’t completely agree with that, he did, of course, but no one had ever petted Makka like that, as if she was the blessed ray of sunshine she actually was. Forgetting completely about Victor’s presence for the sake of his beloved girl, rubbing her all over her head, letting her lick his face until she eventually rolled to her back exposing belly. And doing all of that with the sweetest smile.

That was exactly the moment when Victor thought he wanted to marry that cute Asian boy.

* * *

Esca smiled terribly when she opened her door in the morning.

“Did you get to Lilia’s favourite’s pants?” She asked.

“What?” Was it still not enough sleep for Yuuri to process things properly?

“Oh, you know, you practically got her blessing to claim Victor for yourself. And I’ve never seen her _smile_, she must really like you. _And_ since you stayed the night I thought…”

“I’ve fallen asleep on his couch before 10 p.m. I guess.”

“How rrromantic.” Esca rolled the “r” in Italian manner, and went to the kitchen to prepare her not less Italian coffee.

“Do you think it went good?” Yuuri asked.

“Your date with Victor?”

“No! The rehearsal. And it wasn’t a date!”

“Didn’t you hear what Madame Lilia said? They “seriously consider hiring you”. For her standards it’s like saying you’re brilliant and stuff. Besides, I’ve shown her your video’s from America’s Got Talent and the clip…”

“What?! Do you and Angela know no such a thing as privacy?” Yuuri scolded.

“Are you calling giving somebody a link to a public video invading your privacy?” Esca chocked, but put a cup of coffee in front of Yuuri to appease him. A terribly small cup of coffee, Yuuri thought.

“No, I’m calling that pointing me in a crowd of other people.”

“God, Yuuri, aside from the singer you were _the main focus_ of it.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“And back to the hot topic, when’s your next _date_?”

“That wasn’t a _date_!”

“Are you saying _Victor Nikiforov_ is not good enough for you?”

“You know him?”

Esca looked at Yuuri with consternation.

“How would I _not_ know him?”

Yuuri thought it was a weird thing to say, but Esca was a weird person. Genetically charged with nosiness and minding Yuuri’s business.

So he ignored her and texted Victor to ask when was their next “date”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > 5℉ equals -15℃
> 
> > Ballet instructors are made specifically to hook up cute skater boys together, reblog if you agree.
> 
> > I planned to close Yuuri’s trip to Petersburg in one chapter, what could possibly go wrong? *cuts out Yuuri's birthday to shorten the chapter*
> 
> > Thank you for reading, every comment and Kudos, they mean worlds to me :)


	4. Definitely not a date

_3rd of December, Petersburg_

**Yuuri:** Hi

**Yuuri:** Sorry for yesterday, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Can I make it up to you somehow?

**Yuuri:** Today after ballet?

**Victor:** Don’t be sorry!

**Victor:** That was my fault

**Victor:** Shouldn’t insist

**Victor:** And ask you out of the flat in the morning

**Victor:** No ballet today :D

**Victor:** And I owe you a proper show around

**Yuuri:** Can’t argue with that

**Victor:** Then

**Victor:** When are you free?

**Yuuri:** Any time before 11 p.m.

**Victor:** Hot date at 11? ;(

**Yuuri: **Free studio for practice ;)

**Victor: ** At night?

**Victor:** Francesca’s going to kill you anyway?

**Yuuri:** Not Francesca

**Yuuri:** The end of the semester

**Yuuri:** My first exam’s next Thursday and my dancing partner IS gonna kill me if we fail it

**Victor:** Threat from all sides D:

**Victor:** Are you sure you don’t wanna rest

**Victor:** before the training?

**Yuuri:** It’s fine, 11 p.m. here is my 4 p.m. actually

**Yuuri: **My flight back is on Sunday so I don’t even try to adjust

**Victor:** See you at 6 then?

“Victooor!” Yura screamed. Ops. Right, Victor was at the rink.

“A minute!” Victor screamed back.

**Yuuri:** Sure, where?

**Victor:** I’ll come and get you :D

“Victoooooooor!”

“Vitya!” Mila appeared over Victor’s shoulder out of nowhere and shamelessly gazed at his screen before he manged to turn it away. “You’re going on a date!” Not a question.

“It’s not a date.” Victor shrugged. He would love it if it was a date, obviously. But it wasn’t. More like… Like taking care of Lilia’s, um, guest. Just for old time’s sake. So it was kind of… “A business meeting.”

“You don’t usually stare at the screen with pure bliss when you set up business meetings, you know?” Mila smiled.

“It’s with a cute guy. Happy?” It was almost truth.

“Send me nudes of your cute guy and I _will_ be happy.”

“Mila, damn! Your only eighteen!” Though Victor wasn’t sure when the time had passed.

“And what _you_ were doing when you were eighteen?” She asked.

_Making foundations for Yakov’s high blood pressure and baldness. And choosing purple shampoo of his life, probably. With matching conditioner._

Victor made his _don’t make me feel old _dramatic expression that was his last months’ speciality and turned around, only to get hit in his forehead with a skate guard.

“I’m so sorry!” Victor had no idea Yuri was capable of producing this high notes. “I wanted it to fly next to your head, didn’t think you’d move…”

“YURA! Get out if the ice!” And he didn’t know that he hadn’t heard Yakov’s full volume before either.

* * *

“Excuse me while I negate your_ definitely not a date_, but you just exchanged over a dozen of massages with your _definitely not boyfriend_. And usually it takes you a couple of hours to text me back.” Esca stopped chopping celery and pointed her huge knife at Yuuri.

“Because we live seven time zones apart.” _And I used to have a crush on you._

“That’s irrelevant.” Esca put the celery into a blender and added a whole bunch of parsley. “So, when is it?”

Yuuri felt his stomach twist. Not sure if from presuming he was going on a date with a particularly handsome Russian Cake or the perspective of drinking blended parsley.

“We’re going… somewhere. Today at six.”

“Great. Can I join?” Two pears and kiwi, topped with a generous amount of unidentified powder ended up in the blender. Esca poured in some water and turned it on.

“Don’t you have a class at the time?” Yuuri asked sceptically.

“Ha! Told ya it’s a date! You wanna be alone and stuff.”

“Esca, I swear, you’re worse than Angela and Peach. Combined.”

“I try.” Esca smiled, handing Yuuri a glass of her greenish swamp-like smoothie. Just great.

* * *

That was the first time Victor had to use make up outside of interviews and competitions, but he had no choice. Even his excessive fringe wasn’t enough to cover the gigantic swelling that had grown there after a close contact with Yuri’s skate guard. He could feel it pulsing and had to control himself not to touch it every few minutes. But even with the extra time needed to apply the foundation, he came too early.

The area wasn’t where Victor would usually hang around after the down. A housing estate of decaying blocks of flats and covered by snow ersatz of playgrounds between them. Place of honour in the sad space between huge but unimpressive buildings went to rubbish sheds and old but gold clothes horses. Victor was grateful for the weather. He thought that he probably wouldn’t enjoying meeting locals by one of them.

**Victor:** I’m early

**Victor:** are you ready?

**Victor:** Or can I come in?

Yuuri didn’t answer immediately and by the time Victor found the proper staircase.

**Yuuri:** Come in

**Yuuri:** Sorry I’ve been sleeping

**Yuuri:** 57 on the intercom

Victor pushed the door and came into the building. The smell was slightly resembling something about his very early childhood, something bittersweet.

**Yuuri:** The lift on the right, 4th floor ;)

The lift was howling its entire way down and shook when Victor stepped inside. There was no door other than the door to the shaft and Victor could count passing floors, health and safety be damned.

“There.” Yuuri was waiting for him in the outside corridor and looking ethereal. And no, it wasn’t Victor being stupid and in love with the man who seduced his dog. It was Yuuri standing in the hall, in front of a glass tiles wall, which let through just enough light to highlight his silhouette and give him a halo from his messy hair. Delightful.

“Hi Yuuri!” Victor decided that if he started hugging Yuuri for every hello and goodbye it could pass as his way of being rather than a pretext to touch him. Even if it was a pretext to touch him.

“H-hi.” Yuuri answered, yawning and inviting him inside. “Sorry, I wanted to catch up some sleep before we go out.”

“We don’t have to go out, if you don’t want to.” If you asked Victor, they could just stay, so that Yuuri could sleep and Victor stare. Maybe add a few photos to his little collection of pictures of Yuuri sleeping on his couch. Nothing indecent, really. And nothing weird. Hopefully, that was.

“No, no, I really want to. Just let me change and get my backpack.” Yuuri closed the door behind them.

Victor came in to the flat and looked around. Knowing Francesca was a ballerina he expected something like pre upgraded version of Lilia’s apartment and that… If he didn’t know better he would consider it a squat inhabited by very minimalistic anarchists. He moved from a tiny hall to where Yuuri went, judging from artistic mess of ballet-whatever he could think of it must have been Francesca’s bedroom. Except that there was no bed, only a giant mattress filling over half of the room. The mess of bedding on it made Victor realise they’ve been probably sleeping together on the mattress and he felt a twinge of jealousy. And a lost chance, because if Yuuri could sleep with Francesca on one mattress, he definitely could have slept with Victor on one king size bed the previous night.

“Oh, right!” Yuuri looked embarrassed. “This way.” He led Victor into the kitchen, surprisingly spacious, and seated him there. “Um, actually, where are we going?”

Victor had no idea.

“I thought we could eat out somewhere nice? I can “show you around” a little from the car, how about that?”

“Sounds great. I’m one green smoothie for breakfast from ordering pizza and eating it right in front of Esca’s face.”

“Esca’s?”

“Francesca. Only Francesca is too long.” Yuuri shrugged.

“Right. Should we go to a Russian restaurant or something more fancy?”

Yuuri gave Victor a judging look.

“Anywhere where I can wear jeans and sweater’s fine.” Yuuri stood in front of the corridor mirror and tried to destroy his lovely mess of hair with a comb. Unsuccessfully, to Victor’s delight.

The front door opened and someone came in.

“Hi Sasha!” Yuuri said, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

A long haired man came into the kitchen and stared at Victor, mouth dropped.

“Привет.” Victor said.

“это?” Sasha stumbled with a glimpse of recognition.

Victor pressed his index finger to his mouth and slightly shook his head.

Sasha shrugged and left.

“He’s weird but harmless.” Yuuri shrugged.

“I’m sure he is.” Victor smiled.

* * *

Yuuri must have had no sense of sensibility if he had agreed to go out with the Russian Cake not considering the consequences first. He kept ignoring warning lights in his head the entire evening, starting when Victor appeared in Esca’s flat, standing out like one of Yuuri's dancing costumes in his otherwise toned wardrobe. His red nose and ears and slightly flying hair did nothing to ruin his chick look and definitely branded clothes - long unbuttoned duster coat, soft scarf loosely hanging on his neck and hands covered with thin leather gloves. How could he not notice that earlier?

Well, considering Phichit’s coaching fees and everything associated Victor probably didn’t complain about the lack of cash. But he also didn’t make a single comment about Esca’s room or Yuuri’s not so elegant clothes. Because Victor was a gentleman, driving him around the city and making him feel easy. That must have been exactly how Victor was with anybody, smooth and nice, spreading the aura of safety and easiness even when they were going to a restaurant Yuuri would never enter alone. With wine glasses ready on the tables and menus in leather covers. Yuuri suggested they should have gone to a cheaper place but Victor said he would pay. He tried to refuse but Victor insisted, mumbling something about hospitality and Yuuri being a guest. And maybe Yuuri would resist if he wasn’t afraid of ruining the genuine childlike smile. Yuuri would do anything to make sure Victor would never stop smiling like that.

_Wait, what?!_

A warning light flashed in his head.

* * *

Victor might have been low lately and almost depressed at times, but he liked thinking he was also a smart man. Maybe not the Noble winning smart, but witty enough to sail through the traps of fame and training to stay steadfastly on top of the figure skating world for a couple of years. You didn’t do that if you weren’t clever, right?

That’s why after their sitting in the warmth of a restaurant and trying to act chill enough not to appear an investigator rather than a host taking care of a guest Victor looked at his watch and whined. How cunning of him. Victor was very good at whining, having years of practice from the time it had worked on Yakov, and it did just as brilliant on Yuuri. Being very, very sorry, Victor said that he had to walk Makka and it would be too late if he waited till 11. And Yuuri, that lovely angel, obviously wanted to walk Makka with him. Could Victor ask him like a normal human being? Definitely. Did he have guts to do it? Definitely not.

Nevermind the method, because they were walking through a park with his girl and the love of his life, that just an hour earlier Victor had gotten to know was Japanese, graduating next year in modern dance, used to train ballet and looked absolutely adorable trying new food. And both of them, the dog and the Japanese, were constantly ignoring Victor for the sake of each other. He couldn’t care less. Nothing made him so calm and at ease like watching Yuuri play with Makka. Nothing for… Well, for a while.

When they came back to the flat, flushed from the cold and breathless, Yuuri took out his moisten glasses and Victor just couldn’t resist. He was almost touching that lovely, slightly chubby cheek, when Makka jumped on Yuuri, making him move, and the moment was lost.

Having Yuuri in his flat was so much more intense than having Yura. Superficially the same, but watching another season of TV series over a cheat meal didn’t compare to listening Yuuri talking about his home town and watching him inhale steam over his cup in slightest.

For some reason Victor didn’t want to talk about himself. He was afraid. As much as it was irrational, he had a strong belief that once he’d mentioned what he was actually doing professionally, he would ruin everything. One word too much and his media persona would destroy the moment, like it always did, and the only topic would be he and his job. And Victor was so, so tired of that.

* * *

They came to the studio earlier, Yuuri wanted to start the moment the previous group left.

“Thank you for today, Victor.” Yuuri smiled and opened the car’s door.

“Isn’t it a little too early?” Victor smiled back and opened his door too.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door. I know the way.” Yuuri laughed. He would _die_ for Victor walking him to the door.

“Who said I was going to walk you there? I’m coming with you.”

“You’re… What?” _Seriously, what?_

“Coming with you.” That made no sense, but Victor seamed delighted with the idea. “What, do you want me to wait in the car? That would be cruel, Yuuri, I could freeze.”

“N-no, I thought you’d just come back home. I wasted enough of your time already. That is…”

“You didn’t waste a single minute of mine, I promise.” Victor smiled, passed Yuuri and entered the building.

Yuuri was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to focus with an unexpected guest next to him, but Victor’s presence was only calming. They started each with his own training and it was reassuring to have somebody nearby in that unfamiliar studio at the end of the world. Victor bending next to him was all calm moves and fluid transitions beautifully showing off his body. He didn’t question it when Yuuri proposed no music for warm up and didn’t protest when Yuuri turned on his looped exam routine music.

Yuuri went through the routine again and again, than changing for another exam and skyped Mia for a while, so that they could see each other dancing. Seeing Victor in the background, Mia requested him to partner Yuuri. Yuuri ended the call immediately and gave her a talk through messages but once he mentioned Victor was a choreographer he had no other excuse. They tried together a couple of times and Yuuri called back Mia and showed her the routine. One, two, only after the fourth time Mia accepted it and hung up.

They kept dancing together, Victor letting to lead himself and Yuuri started going off routines, turning him around and deeping like he would with Mia. Despite Victor being taller than him he was easy to lead and make even the more complicated moves. They switched and it took Yuuri a while to adjust, but once he did he could easily imagine himself in the new role. With Victor it felt natural. With Victor it felt safe.

_Oh NO!_ A warning lamp shone in his head along with an alarm calling and Yuuri was doing his best to ignore them.

Yuuri came off Victor and went to his phone. He shuffled his practice playlist with some of his cool down mix and came back to Victor. They weren’t talking a lot. Victor’s smile was more meaningful than thousand words. He’d been so incredibly beautiful before but when they were dancing… It looked as if somebody took a weigh of his shoulders, making him look younger, calmer, almost ethereal with the fair hair and bright eyes.

With their fingers braided, they were turning around together fast like school kids, again and again and again, until Yuuri thought that Victor might get dizzy and stopped. Victor didn’t look dizzy. He looked young and cheerful, and so happy.

Victor smiled and took their braided hands up.

“_I_ thank_ you_ for today.” He said, untangled their fingers and… Did Victor just stroke his cheek?

Yuuri looked at him, searching for an answer. They were so close he didn’t have to squint without glasses. Too close for casual.

Victor opened his mouth but said nothing. He breathed out and closed his eyes. Rounded his shoulders back to the resigned, older version of himself.

Not that it mattered. Yuuri had lost that battle sometime between exchanging dishes in the restaurant and spinning around in the studio. Maybe it was when he saw Vicotr rubbing noses with Makka, or maybe watching his profile in the car. That was irrelevant. Whatever it was, whenever happened, it made Victor took over all of Yuuri’s thoughts. He was in all of them.

His voice saying Yuuri’s name so softly, the warmth of fingers braided with his own all the way to the palm, the easiness of their talks about nothing. Victor’s eyes on his dancing body, not bothering, so very welcome, the way he was slightly squinting his eyes when he thought no one was watching and the little wrinkles around his eyes deepened, making him look younger, paradoxically. The beeping of chopped messages, the general kindness, and the feeling as if they knew each other much longer than the three days.

They were all so precious.

The lovely smile his lips made. Would they be soft or chapped? Both options seemed tempting.

And Yuuri was willing to risk it all.

He had to rose on his toes only a little and lean.

Keeping his eyes wide open, Yuuri kissed Victor.

.

...

.....

The world didn’t stop.

The light didn’t fade and the snow didn’t start snowing, despite the weather forecast.

Nothing testified that something in the universe had changed, the universe didn’t shrink to the point of their touching lips, music was still playing at the background too loud to match the moment and they were red and sweaty.

Only one thing changed – Victor opened his eyes.

It costed Yuuri every ounce of his willpower to keep his own eyes open.

This wasn’t supposed to be like this. There should have been only two options: the world collapsing within Victor’s arms, kissing him back passionately, pressing hands under his T-shirt, keeping him close. Or the world ending the moment Victor pulled his lips away and looked at Yuuri with a pity because he got all of that wrong and had been stupid.

So why what was happening was the third option?

Victor didn’t repel him and didn’t deepen the kiss. He didn’t move at all, only looking at Yuuri questioningly. And Yuuri didn’t understand. Was that his role then? Probably. He had put the card on the table and had to play it till the end. So he stretched his toes a little more, sank his trembling hands in Victor’s indecently soft hair and deepened the kiss.

* * *

When Victor almost managed to control himself, the world happened to be pawky and play with him. Because there was absolutely no possibility that Yuuri, sweet, tender, sleepy Yuuri was kissing him. And that was why Victor was afraid to open his eyes and find out he’d only imagined it. But he had to open them, just like he had to jump, never knowing for sure if there wouldn’t be a piece of lost ice on the rink.

Victor realised that he would open his eyes and wake up in his bed alone, in his warm yet cold bedroom and it would still be November. He had never met any Yuuri in Lilia’s studio, his mind had made it up, not having even enough imagination to change Yura’s name a lot. Oppressing himself with visions of having a companion while walking Makka, somebody visiting him under a different pretext than using his electronics and taking him for a dance class at unreasonable hour and then kissing him after as little as a few days of acquaintance.

_Of course_ it was a dream. It made no sense and was full of ridiculous details. Like the alleged love of his life was Japanese, a professional dancer and an absurdly perfect human being, who loved Makka at first sight, mutually, and laughed at Victor’s bad jokes. And Victor was slowly waking up from the dream, that at some point must have been a nightmare, because he could feel sweat cooling on his back. Had he forgotten to close a window again?

He opened his eyes and... oh! Yuuri did not disappear. Was he real then? There was a surprise in his eyes, as if he just realised he’d made a terrible mistake, and Victor froze, unsure what was coming next. Yuuri’s lips were gingerly touching Victor’s and Victor was afraid, so afraid, that Yuuri would withdraw and never kiss him again.

Next thing he knew were Yuuri’s hands entangled within his hair and Yuuri’s tongue caressing his lips and Victor didn’t care whether it was the reality or just a dream. If the latter, he wished he’d never woken up.

He wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist and pressed tightly, as if it could prevent him for disappearing. But Yuuri wasn’t going anywhere and Victor allowed himself to believe that that was actually happening, that was his life in its most important moment. Because compared to kissing Yuuri, every competition, every medal ceremony, every fall and every lonely night meant nothing.

So Victor let himself be bold and opened his lips, moaning when Yuuri slipped in, just a little, barely brushing his tongue, while his hands were holding Victor’s head almost painfully, as if Yuuri also needed a support. As if… No, impossible.

It was so perfect, and then Yuuri pulled back just a little, took a deep breath and pressed their foreheads together and…

“Блядь!” Victor screamed.

At least he had an indisputable proof that it was not a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think this would end up in a serious way, did you?
> 
> The little Russian in this chapter:  
Привет. - Hello.  
это? - Is it?  
Блядь! - Fuck!
> 
> Next chapter's going to be the longest so far and full of dialogues, oops, I like dialogues
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this fic please consider leaving feedback :D Or write in comment if you like celery (cause ao3 is weird and comments are the only way of knowing if you read until now or just left kudos after the first chapter and idk)


	5. W

_4th of December, Petersburg_

Yuuri didn’t know what he had done wrong, but the night had been going way too well, so of course it must have been a matter of time for him to fuck up something. He had no idea what was happening, but one second they were kissing and everything was the closest to perfect Yuuri’s life had ever been, and the next second Victor screamed and grabbed his forehead, bending and making faces.

“Are you ok?” Yuuri asked, not sure if he could touch Victor or not.

“What? Y-yeah.” Victor said, looking embarrassed. “I got hit today during training… With Yura that is… And I’ve completely forgotten about it.” He went to the mirror wall, rose his fringe, poked forehead and hissed. “Shit. It grew bigger.”

Yuuri put his glasses on and looked too. Indeed, there was a red and purple swelling covering half of Victor’s prominent forehead. He must have rested his head right in the middle of it.

“I’m so sorry. I haven’t noticed that.” Yuuri said.

“Um, it’s not your fault. I covered it and somehow forgotten.” Victor licked his finger and rubbed on the leftovers of foundation, that thanks to Yuuri mostly moved into Victor’s hair.

“By the way, who would hit you like that?”

Victor looked at him thoughtfully.

“It’s not a big secret I guess. Yura, well, his not the most patient person. So he wanted to catch my attention and threw one of his skate guards in my direction.”

“That cute child?”

Victor giggled.

“You two have to meet one day so you can tell him he’s a cute little child and you choke on his name.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“I’d rather not.” _Look, you’re a cute big child and I’m not telling you that._

Victor sighed, turning away from the mirrors.

“Sorry for ruining the mood.” He said.

So, apparently, Victor poking his forehead like a curious baby wasn’t the sweetest thing Yuuri’s ever seen. That honourable title went to Victor blushing while gazing at the floor.

“That’s fine.” Yuuri said. It was terribly contagious, the whole blushing thing. “You’re going to work in a few hours anyway.”

“I can take a day off.” Victor said.

“I don’t think the _cute little child_ of yours would forgive me that.”

“The only cute child of mine is Makkachin.”

Victor’s feigned indignation was successfully added to _The Loveliest Memories Catalogue_ by Katsuki Yuuri. Thank you for updating, cheers, your brain.

“Fine.” Victor said. “Let’s go back home then.”

* * *

Victor was convinced that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, not knowing Yuuri was sleeping in his apartment again. He just would be too excited, especially that Yuuri immediately agreed to share his bed, so basically they levelled up just overnight. Victor would come to the rink completely sleep deprived and going on pure adrenaline and excitement and…

_…he was bathing with Yuuri in a weird outdoor pool and they were completely naked. It was dark outside, the water hot on his skin in contrast to the chilly night air, and Yuuri was covered with water except for his head. Victor got closer to him and Yuuri tensed, slowly moving away. It was rather unlike him, to be that shy. Maybe he wasn’t a very touchy person but not that shy either._

_Victor’s mouth moved and he was sure he’d said something, because he could hear his own voice, but couldn’t make out any words. Yuuri answered and he couldn’t understand that either, but after that he let Victor touch his shoulder, though the muscles were still tensed under skin. They exchanged a few words and Victor desperately wanted to know what they were saying. He didn’t understand what was happening. Had his public alter ego took over and he lost their mind? What was hap…_

_He saw his hand rising and knocking on unfamiliar door. He had a pillow in his other hand. Yuuri’s voice answered from behind the door, sounding panicked, and Victor knocked the door a few more times. Whatever it was, it made Victor feel sad. When had he become so vulnerable?_

_He was skating on an unfamiliar rink, to a strange routine and unknown music, when he heard them quarrelling. Yuuri and Yuri, quarrelling on an ice rink. Oh. Oh no. Yuuri shouldn’t see him like this, Victor was not READY to be seen like this! Their only started relationship was fine without incorporating skating into that and Victor was sure revealing that he might be a little bit more than just Yuri’s choreographer would ruin everything._

_And then it was Yuuri skating in one of his old costumes and it was amazing. And ridiculous, for that it was absolutely not possible. But there he was, skating so beautifully and provocatively, hair combed back and eyes concentrated._

_Where they sitting together in kiss and cry? Why Victor wasn’t wearing skates?_

_“Victor.”_

_“Victor…”_

“Viktor! Wake up, Victor! Can you hear me? Your alarm’s ringing. Victor!” He felt somebody shaking his arms. “Victor!”

Victor opened his eyes, surprised.

“Yuuri? What are you doing here?”

There was a hint of blush on Yuuri’s cheeks but it quickly changed into relief.

“I think you should see a doctor.” Yuuri said.

Oh, no. Was that dream ever going to end?

“What?”

“You hit your head at work, do you remember?” Yuuri asked with agitation. “You were mumbling in your sleep and I couldn’t wake you up for a while. Your alarm turned off a few minutes ago.”

“I was sleeping?!”

“Yeah. Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

Victor blinked. Did he _remember?_ He sat on the bed and quickly, so that he had no way of escaping, kissed Yuuri. God, he could die for the blush.

“Did you say something?” Victor teased.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Cute…

“You’re gonna be late.” Yuuri said.

Victor felt back onto the mattress.

“Whatever.”

“Come on. Little Yuri’s counting on you. It’s his debut year and he’s got his next competition next week, right?”

Had Victor been really that stupid and said that?

“Yeah…” Victor pouted. “Fine. _Yura_’s counting on _me_.”

“Here. Somebody’s texting you.” Yuuri dropped Victor’s phone on his lap.

**Chris:** How are you, cheri?

**Chris:** Hey, are you ok?

**Chris:** Viktor?

**Chris:** Viktor

**Chris:** If you won’t answer I’m texting Popo D:

**Victor:** m fine

**Victor:** Thanks for the good advise ♥♥♥♥♥

**Victor: **And don’t text Popo

**Victor:** He makes me feel old DDD”:

**Chris:** Don’t be so dramatic, he’s literally a day younger than you

**Victor:** I made my research

**Victor:** And actually

**Victor:** Armani’s only 17 hour’s younger

**Victor:** Still

**Victor:** 17 hours and a minute too much

“Hey! You were supposed to get up!” Yuuri said.

**Chris:** Mon cheri, how? Did you investigated his mother?

“In a minute, mom!” Victor said.

“Very funny.” Yuuri puffed.

**Viktor:** omg Chris

**Viktor:** no

**Viktor:** Told you we get along

**Viktor:** With the rink ppl

**Viktor:** And one Popo came here

**Viktor:** I’ve got no idea

“Viktor!”

**Viktor: **how he knew where I live

**Viktor:** and he cae and like

**Viktor:** brings a lot of vodka??

**Viktor:** After he broke up

**Victor:** You remember that?

**Chris:** Let’s consider I do

**Victor:** so I don’t remember why

**Victor:** but I know we’re born 17hr apart

**Victor:** Does that make sense?

**Chris:** You’re back to your old self, that’s good to know

Victor didn’t get to know it that made sense because Yuuri took his phone before Chris was done typing.

“Hey!”

“You’re gonna be late.”

Victor pouted. “How about you?”

“Training at noon and then eleven.”

“Perfect.” Victor grinned. “Can I ask you a favour?”

* * *

Sunlight was reflecting on the snow while Yuuri was going through a park with Makkachin, the cutest creature he’d ever met, and it felt weirdly surreal. The ordinariness of waking up as far away from both places he considered his home as possible, dragging Victor out of his bed in the morning, as if he was a naughty schoolboy rather than a grown up man, walking a lovely dog in his way to a bakery that Victor had recommended.

Victor…

Yuuri knew he should think through whatever had happened the previous day and night but he didn’t want to. Time with Victor was a fan of lovely, safe memories and Yuuri was afraid that factorizing them would only break their value and force him to think rationally. And there was a lot to think about, because the next day he had to get into a bus to Tallinn and from there fly back to Detroit, not sure if he was going to see Victor ever again. If he got hired to Madame Lilia’s project than maybe yes, but not before over two months of being apart. And Yuuri was already missing Victor when he was… Stop!

They hardly knew each other. They’d met four days ago. They spend two nights together, both of them mostly sleeping and being awkward, thanks gods for Makkachin who was the best excuse to look away. They kissed in the studio. _They kissed in the studio._ No. Not really. _Yuuri _kissed _Victor_ in the studio. Just like that. But then a few hours later _Victor_ kissed _him_ in the bed, so were they settled?

Yuuri reached the bakery unconvinced. He was a stranger. Victor knew he was. Maybe he was just flirting with him? Maybe it was for fun? Maybe Madame Lilia always got Victor to entertain visitors? Which didn’t make sense if he considered what Esca said the previous day.

There was a line in the bakery and Yuuri had a while to admire baskets of rolls and trays of cakes behind the glass. He wondered which was Victor’s favourite.

“Что для тебя?” The lady behind the counter was stout and ruddy, smiling politely and looking meaningfully at the line behind him.

“English?” Yuuri asked.

The lady shook her head and wanted to say something, but Makkachin barked and her face tightened.

“Вход с собаками запрещен.” She waved her hand showing Yuuri the door.

Yuuri didn’t know what was happening and he didn’t know a word in Russian so… “Excuse me?”

The lady rolled her eyes. “Собака нет.” She leaned on the counter, which made Yuuri worry that the counter might not survive that, and saw Makkachin. The change on her face was immediate. “Маккачин! Кто лучшая собачка?” Makkachin barked again and the lady laughed. “Друг Виктора?”

_Something_ Victor. Good.

“Yes, she’s Victor’s.” Yuuri nodded. “You know him, eeeh… Victor?”

“Два человека?”

Yuuri could only smile apologetically, the line behind him growing inpatient, so the lady waved her hand again and turned around to the shelves. She handed him a bag of bread and goodies and turned to the next customer.

“How much?” Yuuri asked, waving his wallet.

She shook her head.

“На счет Виктора.” And she turned back to the annoyed customer behind Yuuri.

Back in Victor’s apartment Yuuri fed Makkachin and looked around. The flat seemed empty without the owner and devoid of the cosiness that was there with Victor’s presence. There were a few dirty dished in the sink, battlefield of Makkachin’s toys on the floor and he could see the undone bed in the bedroom. He had still over two hours before his studio time anyway, and he really didn’t want to abandon the huge ball of fluff, so it was perfectly reasonable to clean a little. It was, right?

“Weren’t you going to check whether I live or not?” Yuuri said from the entrance.

“_Good morning, Esca._ Hi, Yuuri. _How are you?_ Fine, thanks for asking. How are you?” Esca’s voice was switching smoothly between her ordinary tone and overdone mimicry of Yuuri’s accent.

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Of course you weren’t.”

“Oh my GOD, Yuuri, you were with your _definitely not a boyfriend_-boyfriend and stayed the night, what could possibly happen? Unless you didn’t use protection, that is.” Esca appeared right next to Yuuri’s face. “You did use protection, didn’t you?” How hadn’t he noticed before Esca could be freaking scary?

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh my GOD, you _didn’t_?”

Yuuri moaned.

“Of course we didn’t, because it was just a meeting. And he’s not my bo….” Yuuri stopped. He wasn’t sure of that anymore.

* * *

Victor thought that could be his life. Waking up next to Yuuri. Hugging him tightly before going to practice. Coming back to his apartment cleaned (not that it wasn’t also embarrassing). Seeing Yuuri’s surprised face in the locker room. Taking him back home. Doing shopping together, looking for a perfect piece of meat and facetiously quarrelling whether they had to buy milk or not. Singing with the radio in the way back home. Watching Makka lick Yuuri’s face and jump between them. That could be his life, and instead he got the few stolen days of that.

He shoved the gloomy thoughts to the back of his head and opened the fridge. He’d been right. There was definitely milk on the door.

“See, told you I had milk.” Victor said triumphantly.

“It’s spoiled.” Yuuri said. “I added some to my coffee and had to pour everything out.”

Victor smelled the bottle. “It’s fine to me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that’s milk too, sorry.”

“So what did you add to the coffee.?” Victor frowned.

“The blue carton.” Yuuri turned leaned next to him and took it out.

Victor giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Yuuri crossed his arms. He looked adorable when he was annoyed.

“It’s not milk, Yuuri. It’s kefir.”

‘What?”

“Kefir. It’s made out of milk but not good for coffee. You drink it alone or eat with muesli.”

“Right, sorry.” And Yuuri’s cute blush was right there. “I know no Russian so… ugh. I probably embarrassed myself in the bakery. And then they realised we’re friends.” Yuuri rubbed his temples.

Friends? _Just_ friends? Ouch.

Yuuri told Victor about a bakery incident and Victor made a mental note to ask there what actually happened.

“Anyway, when I came back I wanted some coffee for the cake she gave us” Victor savoured the “us” more then he’d be willing to admit “and poured the kefir into it.” Yuuri shrugged.

“She gave us cake?” Victor asked.

“Yep. Whole lot of it. Weird but good. I put it in the cupboard. You said Makka liked to steal food, right?”

Seriously, he didn’t know where and how, but Victor had to marry that guy. He opened the cupboard and a familiar homey smell enveloped him.

“Yeast-cake! Though I don’t understand why everyone tries to feed me cake lately.”

“You’re a little skinny here and there.” Yuuri shrugged.

“Yuuuuriii! Don’t hurt me like that!”

* * *

Yuuri could listen to Victor moaning his name all day long and in completely different, yet still domestic circumstances, and that was a terrible thought to have. But he was going to be permanently deprived of the guilty pleasure that was teasing Victor in less than 24 hours, so he wasn’t going to withdraw.

“I’m not _hurting_ you. You can consider it a compliment.” Yuuri said. “I struggle all my life with gaining weigh quickly.” Yuuri was back by the kitchen counter preparing ingredients but he could feel Victor’s gaze on his shoulders, back and… lower. And he liked that feeling.

“You don’t look like you do.” Victor said.

Of course not. He gained weight only during vacation at home, which made him…

“I don’t as long as my stretch marks don’t show.” Yuuri said before he could bite his tongue. Shit. Mr Hot Russian Cake didn’t have to know that. Mr Hot Russian Cake definitely didn’t have a single stretch mark and probably found them gross.

“Yuuuuriii.” Mr Hot Russian Cake was purring right next to his ear. “Can I see?”

Yuuri dropped a bag of rice.

“W-what?”

“Can I see?” Victor purred again. “Your stretch marks?”

Was it really that hot in the room?

“N-no. I don’t think so.” Yuuri mumbled.

There were Victor’s hands resting on his shoulder and hip, which outside of dancing studio felt much more intense and… personal. Yuuri took a deep breath, afraid that Victor would ignore his answer and pull his sweater up. There was a battle within him, trying to decide if that would be a good turn of events, when Victor moved away and opened a cupboard.

“Since I’ve seen no evidence of your weight gain tendency, then there’s no reason for you not to eat more cake with me.” Victor said happily.

“I won’t argue with that.” Yuuri shrugged. He was starving anyway.

“And you know what’s the best drink to heave with yeast-cake?”

“Let me guess, a shot of Russian vodka?” Yuuri teased.

“Nope.” Victor smiling like a mischievous child was going to haunt Yuuri every night from the memorable evening on as a shadow of lost chances. He’d never known he had that much of masochistic tendencies. He just couldn’t force himself to look away, not when Victor was tiptoeing to reach the highest shelf and rising one of his leg with a grace of ballerina. “Kefir.” Victor beamed.

“I’m not drinking the spoiled milk thing.”

“I promise it’s good without coffee.” Victor declared.

“I don’t think you can be trusted on that matter.” Yuuri showed him just a tip of his tongue.

“Yuuuuriii.” There it was.

“Fine, I can try it.”

“Just try it?” Victor pouted.

“I won’t bath in Russian dairy just to get back in your favour.” Shit. Shit shit shit!

Did Victor always smile in the predatory way?

“You drink an entire glass of kefir or…”

“Or?”

“…or you show me some of your stretch marks.” Victor wasn’t beaming. He was _radiating_.

“Whatever.” Yuuri shrugged.

The first sip was weird. Sour and creamy, and leaving a weird, slightly milky aftertaste. The second was actually worse, because he had too much at once and the unfamiliar taste twisted his head a little, but the yeast-cake indeed made it drinkable. So Yuuri thought he could make it, he could drink the glass of kefir and peacefully proceed to cooking their actual dinner, but halfway through the glass he glanced at Victor. Victor who looked like a child deprived a candy.

A trickle of kefir dripped down his chin and Yuuri made a face.

“I can’t anymore.” He said and put a piece of cake into his mouth.

With Russian cake in his mouth and Russian Cake on his waist he thought that, even if it wasn’t the best indication of rightness of his choices, Phichit would be proud of him.

* * *

If you’d told 18 years old Victor, who had been spending ten minutes every evening braiding his hair to prevent damage and another ten in the morning carefully straightening them, who’d been using ten different creams at a time, and that excluding body lotion, and who’d been nervously checking himself out in a mirror over and over again before leaving the rink building, that he’d lose his mind over a few barely visible but present Japanese stretch marks, he'd have laughed in your face. So why the same, though almost a decade older Victor, was staring at them with such delight and adoration? Damn, he wanted to touch them. Kiss them, lick them, eat them. All the good stuff.

“Victor! What are you doing?” Yuuri said.

“Admiring.” Victor answered. It would be much easier if they were on the couch or, preferably, the bed, but he was going to take what he got anyway. The marks were so light it was completely reasonable for Victor to kneel on the floor and look closer on Yuuri’s waist and belly. He’d just kiss the three stripes near his bellybutton, just that.

Yuuri seemed tensed and a little intimidated, but Victor had close to zero self-control at that moment and really kissed him.

Three things happened simultaneously:

Yuuri squeaked, surprised by the kiss.

Victor looked up and hit his head in the kitchen counter.

And the front door opened, revealing Yuri.

_Oh God, whyyy?_

“Sorry I’m late, I was bak…” Yuri froze. “What the fuck?”

Excellent question, Victor thought, though he knew it was him who completely fucked up that time. Because it was Friday. _Obviously_ Yura was coming over, Victor just had forgotten about it, just like he kept forgetting about most of things when Yuuri was nearby. The outcome? Yura appearing at his door while he was there with Yuuri in a rather, hmmm, suggestive position. Even if nothing had happened, to Victor’s misfortune.

“You could just call and say you had somebody for the n-night.” Did Yuri’s voice trembled? Victor managed to collect himself from the floor and looked at him. There was a hint of watery shine in Yuri’s eyes.

“Has something happened?” Asked Yuuri.

Right. English. They had to switch back to English.

“No. It’s Friday and we watch movies on Fridays with Yura.” Victor explained. “Yuuri, this is Yuri, and Yuri, Yuuri.” Victor chuckled and waved his hands in corresponding directions.” Did Yura _blushed_? “Yuuri came too and he’s making dinner, right, Yuuri?” Victor nudged Yuuri. He’d have nothing against sending Yura flying back to Lilia’s for the rest of the night, but he was a responsible adult, damn it.

“Y-yeah.” Yuuri said. “Hi, Yur-i.” Victor tried not to laugh at the not very successful trial of saying Yura’s name, but failed completely.

“Wow.” Yuri said. “That Yuuri?”

“That?” Victor asked.

Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri gave Victor a scolding look that, Victor was absolutely sure of that, wasn’t meant to soften his knees.

“Did you talk about me w…?”

“What? Of course not!”

“You’re him!” Yuri said, staring at Yuuri from an angle. “Can I have your autograph?”

“What?!” Yuuri and Victor said at the same time. Victor felt so confused. Was anyone going to explain him what was happening?

“Or maybe a selfie!” Yura decided. “I’ve got the CD at home, so, um, could you sign it later? Maybe? If possible? Pretty please?” CD? _Pretty please?_ From _Yura_? What. The. Fuck.

“Oh my Goood” Yuuri’s eyes widened “how did you figure it out? I don’t even look alike there.”

“And?” Yuri tilted his head.

“What are you two talking about?” Victor needed information. Desperately.

“Yuuri Katsuki, 24 years old since last Sunday, leading dancer in the clip that was released two weeks ago and the whole Internet is screaming about him since then? This one?” Yura pointed at Yuuri who was red all over his face. “Oh, right, I’ve completely forgotten that you, geezer, can see only the tip of your nose. I can’t believe your such a loser.”

“Wow! Why didn’t you tell me, Yuuri?” Victor Nikiforov, 5 years consecutive figure skating world champion, living legend, Olympic champion, occasionally a model and, his latest title, a disgusting hypocrite.

“It’s embarrassing.” Yuuri muttered, glancing everywhere but Victor’s eyes.

“Cause you’ve been busy talking about yourself, old loser.” Yura said and stuck his tongue out. “So what with the selfie?”

* * *

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no…

That hadn’t been supposed to be like that. Obviously, he planned to tell Victor about it at some point if their relationship survived long enough. Just not that quickly. And not get unmasked by a teenage boy, with whom Victor had much more in common than just work, who materialised while Yuuri was being kissed by Victor dangerously close to certain areas.

And what the hell, internet was screaming about him? His face was barely visible there, most of the time half shadowed or completely invisible when he was only a black silhouette around the pole. He didn’t wear glasses in the clip, his hair was combed back and for most of the shots when he was more exposed he wore an officer's cap.

He knew that Phichit, the treacherous friend of him, made sure that people all over the world would know exactly who was dancing in the clip but he didn’t suspect him of posting his private photos anywhere other than his super private Instagram account (under thread of Yuuri never talking to him again and taking one of Phichit’s hamsters as a hostage) It looked like they were going to have a serious discussion once Yuuri came back. And until then…

* * *

“NO!” Yuuri screamed, when Yura handled Victor his phone set on a YouTube video. “I can drink whatever amount of the kefir thing you want if you don’t watch it.” Yuuri begged.

“I don’t want to force you to.” Victor sing-songed and leaned on the kitchen counter. “And I’m sure you’re great, if even Yura thinks so. Didn’t I tell you our sweet little child never admits he likes something?”

“You asshole!” Yura screamed. Good. At least both of them where in fairly bad moods.

“I’m starting it in three, two, one!” Victor pressed the play button.

Staying was a terribly bad idea, because Victor’s knees softened even more than before and he had to fight not to drain and become a wet stain on the floor. The title, _On Love: EROS_, should have been enough to signal it, but when it came to Yuuri Victor’s brain was reducing to two screaming cells. He hardly heard the music and payed no attention to the words. The singer was pretty, with big dark eyes and long shiny hair, but her beauty faded next to Yuuri, who was gorgeous. Victor knew he was well stretched and under his baggy clothes was hidden athletic body, but watching him pole dancing and making figures Victor wasn’t sure were possible while keeping himself up on the pole was a completely different level. He immediately understood why Yuuri said he didn’t look alike. Even after spending all the time together Victor wouldn’t have recognised him at first. The Yuuri he knew was a soft teaser, a little bit shy at times. Hiding his obvious sexiness behind a thatch of hair and outmoded glasses, acting unattainable. And in the video he was all sex and power, even moves and military inspired outfit that was similar to Victor’s last year free skate costume in a tricky way. Topped with a military cap, that he was deftly keeping on his head or in a hand or toes, like a gymnast her stick. The clip ended with Yuuri clenching his thighs high on the pole, leaning head down and putting the cap on the singers head. Was it that hot in the room before?

“Yuuri, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Victor blurted before he could stop himself.

Yuuri, hiding his face behind a cushion, moaned.

“That’s why I’d rather never signed up for this. But I needed the money.” Yuuri said apologetically. “I know it’s not a good excuse but…”

“What do you mean you’d never sign up for this?” Yuri puffed. “The video is freaking awesome, it was the most badass pole dance I’ve ever seen!” Has Yura just admitted he’d been watching pole dancing? God, and only a day before Victor scolded Mila. He really was getting older.

“You think?” One of Yuuri’s eyes emerged from behind the cushion.

“I don’t think, I _know_. Have you even googled yourself after the release?” Yura looked and Yuuri sceptically.

“No.” Yuuri said.

There was a longer while of silence when Yura was staring from Victor to Yuuri and back. He stopped on Victor though and opened his mouth, but then shook his head.

“You’re both worth of each other.” Yuri said.

“Oh, Yuratchka, that’s so sweet of you!” Victor said and ruffled Yuri’s hair, hoping Yuuri wouldn’t come up with the idea of googling _him_.

“Oh my God.” Yuuri’s voice was a pitch higher than usually and trembling. “Can you keep me for a while? I don’t think I can come back home or to the dance school ever again.” He said while scrolling past his phone.

“Ok, losers, you can talk about it later. Now, what’s for dinner?” Yura asked.

“I planned to make one of my mom’s dished, but I can't cook in that state. You destroyed me.” Yuuri said. Victor wanted to run to the sofa and hug him.

“Told ‘ya you and the old man were worth of each other.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “I made piroshky so, if you want some, they should be still warm.”

“_You_ made them?” Victor looked at him sceptically.

“Yes?” Yura barked. “Same with the cake last week.”

“I didn’t know you bake, Yuratchka.”

“You don’t know a lot, old man.”

Yuuri giggled hysterically from the sofa, sharing his attention between Victor, Yuri and whatever he discovered in Google. To be fair, Victor had to admit that Yura disturbing their sweet moment with Yuuri wasn’t the worst thing that had happened that week. Wasn’t even nowhere near the first ten. And having two other people in his apartment, along with his dog princess sleeping in the corner, definitely made it to the top three. Not that he’d ever say that loud, but he could get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian translations from this chapter:  
Что для тебя? - What for you?  
Вход с собаками запрещен. - No dogs allowed.  
Собака нет. - No dogs.  
Маккачин! Кто лучшая собачка? - Makkachin! Who's the best doggy?  
Друг Виктора? - Victor's friend?  
Два человека? - Two people?  
На счет Виктора. - On Victor's account.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and comments, it's suuuper helpful to know if it shows what it's supposed to :D
> 
> Next chapter will be the last of the Petersburg "arc" (Have I metioned before that I thought I could do that in one 5k> chapter? Brevity hates me.) and then the fun begins...


	6. Evanescent

_5th of December, Petersburg_

Yawning, Yuuri turned off his alarm and got up after mere four hours of sleep. He had to if he wanted to make it to the practice. And not get killed by Mia back in Detroit, by the way. Unlike when he was left alone, he never had problems with getting up when there was someone else in the room. And with Victor in the same bed he didn’t want to even risk waking him up with his wriggling and hitting snooze after snooze. He collected his things and tiptoed around the bed. Victor was sleeping topless and hugging to his breast Makkachin, who'd taken place between them the moment they’d lied the few hours earlier.

Victor was lying on his back and Makkachin rested her head right under his collarbone. Victor’s mouth were slightly opened and his fringe had fallen in a halo around his head, revealing two sore colourful swellings, the older and bigger one almost in the middle of his forehead and the smaller on the left, partially hidden by hair. Yuuri leaned and kissed them both. Victor didn’t move so Yuuri kissed his nose as well. Then, he couldn’t help himself and took a photo.

He dressed quickly and quietly, having Victor in the bedroom and Yuri on the sofa he didn’t want to wake any of them. He took his training clothes out of Victor’s dryer, which Yuri had called a ridiculous extravagance for some reason, and took a slice of the fluffy Russian cake. Yuri’s piroshky were eaten all the previous evening and Yuuri didn’t want to make any noise preparing something more complicated. The rest of the apartment was still sleeping and so it should stay. Yuuri slowly closed the door and run to catch his bus.

He got to the studio a few minutes early. Esca, who promised to substitute Mia for the training, still wasn’t there and for the first time Yuuri felt in the studio like in Detroit, when it was empty as it was too late for anyone to come. Which was quite ironic, considering the fact he was going to leave the city, the country, everything in a few hours, and it was inhumanly early. In Petersburg the time of the day almost didn’t matter, it was creamy dark for most of the day, so it really felt like home. Esca came and run into ladies’ locker room a minute before seven. They had half an hour to practice before he had to skype Mia to prove he wasn’t slacking.

In the studio Esca was turning into a rigorous and professional dancer, in the good way, and it was easy do dance with her. It was calming, letting him forget for a while about the incredibly embarrassing evening, even if it wasn’t enough to let him forget the blue of Victor’s eyes.

“Your legs are trembling.” Esca said when they made a water break. “Are you sure you wanna continue?”

“I was here six hours ago for another training, and had to run to catch my bus, of course they’re trembling. Besides, do you think it’s enough of an excuse for Mia?” Yuuri shook his head, answering his own question.

Before he could think about it, Mia called him. He could see her face in a dark room, illuminated by the screen glow.

“Finally.” Mia yawned. “Let’s do this so I can go back to sleep.”

“It’s up to you how long it takes.” Yuuri teased.

“Are you sure of that?”

Yuuri set the phone in the same spot Madame Lilia’s team had been sitting during his rehearsal and turned on the music. Only then he realised that Esca was much shorter than Mia and they would have to readjust back within the three days they had left before their exam.

With Esca Mia wanted them to dance through the routine six times, consulting things with both of them and leaving them completely breathless at the end of the training.

“So you’re the ballerina girl who picked my partner.” Mia said, tricky smile forming on her lips.

“Mia!” Yuuri scolded.

Esca took his phone and grinned to the camera.

“Jealous?” She smirked.

“Just making sure Yuuri will end up in good hand.” Mia blinked. “We wouldn’t wanna let him waste.”

“Stop that, you two!” Yuuri took his phone back.

“But Yuuuuri!” Mia moaned.

“You can get back to this when I get the results.” He said.

“Sure we will.” Said Esca and stuck out her tongue over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I have a weird feeling you two should have never met. Even online.”

“Too late!” Esca said cheerfully and took the phone out of his hands again.

After the practice there was no actual reason for Yuuri not to go back to Esca’s place: he took all of his things from Victor’s apartment and he was leaving the city in a few hours. Only actual reasons where much less convincing than the deeper ones, so instead Yuuri caught a bus back to Victor’s area. He didn’t say goodbye in the morning and that, if anything else couldn’t be found, was enough to justify him.

In his way back Yuuri came in to the bakery. The saleslady recognised him and smiled.

“Друг виктора. Два человека.” She said.

“No Russian.” Yuuri reminded her.

The woman rose two fingers.

Oh, right. Yuuri rose three and smiled.

* * *

Whatever force majeure was responsible for the rollercoaster of sensations and moods Victor had been experiencing that week, they must have had time of their existence observing the outcome. Or was it karma for all the times he’d nearly given Yakov a heart attack, which decided that was excellent time to gather the harvest? Victor wasn’t sure and didn’t want to know. In fact, he didn’t want to have anything to do with whatever it was, because it was definitely taking pleasure in turning him into an emotional wreck.

How else could he interpret it after that day?

He was woken up by the doorbell that didn’t want to open itself so, slightly grumpy, he went to open the door and… Wow. Yuuri standing at his door with a bakery bag in his hands and steamy glasses under his greyish cup was a delicious view, in every possible meaning. Whether it was reality, still a dream or Victor just magically teleported to an adult movie plan, in which the smell of still warm bread was an irrelevant bonus, while what really mattered was a pair of different buns, Victor was all in. At that point Victor would be into literally anything that would have something to do with Yuuri. He wasn’t fussy, not at that filed.

“Hi.” Yuuri said and gave the bag to Victor to entangle himself from layers of clothing. It was magic how he could change from a slim dancer into a chubby winter teddy bear within seconds and no one would be able to point it was fake, thanks to Yuuri’s sweet round cheeks. Adorable.

Yuuri looked around the living room.

“Did Yuri leave?” He asked.

Hmm…

“Probably.” Victor said. “He sometimes do that if he stays the night. But don’t worry, he’s got spare keys.”

Yuuri looked at him as if the fact Yura got spare keys to Victor’s apartment was exactly the reason why he worried and Victor scolded himself. It could be if someone didn’t know the full context of their relationship.

“Oh. I didn’t know and asked for bread for three people. Or I think I asked for bread for three people, I’m not one hundred percent sure…” Yuuri chuckled, which melted Victor’s heart a little bit more.

“Makka can get Yura’s share.” Victor said happily. Makka wasn’t usually allowed humans' food but Victor was too soft to abide the rule all the time.

“Yuri’s loss.” Yuuri shrugged. “I think we got cake again.”

_Yura’s loss, Vitya’s gain, ghihihah… _

“Coffee?” Victor asked.

Yuuri’s “yeah” continued as a yawn, which Makka followed up and Victor couldn’t resist neither, making a miniature dog-human yawning wave.

“Definitely coffee.” Victor giggled and went to start the coffee machine.

Meanwhile Yuuri sat on the floor to slowly turn Makka from a poodle into a puddle, as she was melting under his touch. God, let the moment last forever.

“Any plans for today?” Victor asked. “Or do you want to take Makka for her looong weekend walk with me?”

“Sure.” Yuuri smiled. “I have a few more hours left.”

“For what?” Victor asked, completely unaware that he was standing right at a bank of a cliff and a storm was coming.

“For the bus.” Yuusi said, as if it was absolutely obvious.

“What bus?”

Why Yuuri looked so surprised that he didn’t know?

“To Tallinn.”

To Tallinn?

“Aren’t you flying back home tomorrow?” Victor asked sceptically.

“Yeah, and by tomorrow I mean tomorrow at 1 a.m. From Tallinn.” Yuuri said. “Didn’t I tell you?”

No.

No no no no.

Nonononononononononononononononono…

Victor swallowed.

_Attention please. We’re sending a message to all subunits. Program Victor Nikiforov has crashed and needs to be restored. Until then, please submit to the alternative software version Media Victor until the end of successful restoration. Thank you for your cooperation._

“No. You didn’t.”

“It’s to make the travel cheaper.” Yuuri smiled weakly. “At least it’s faster than the bus from Riga.”

Oh. Oh shit. Two conflicting wishes had a fight in Victor’s head, first wanting to beg Yuuri to stay and offer him to buy him a flight from Petersburg, which would earn Victor a few more precious hours with Yuuri. Second wanting the first to sit quiet and not lean out, because Yuuri might start asking questions. Like, _questions_. For example, why Victor wanted to spend so much money on him or, worse, where had the money came from. Not to mention how obsessive it would look like, unless Victor would find a _really_ good reason…

Eventually, the second wish won.

_But maybe we could just drive our sweet Yuuri to Tallinn?_ the first suggested. _It’s just a few hours, Yakov wouldn’t even notice…_

_To all subunits: program Victor Nikiforov was successfully reloaded. Please continue with your previous tasks._

“Right.” Victor said. “You told me your flight’s on Sunday and I assumed from Pulkovo.” And in the evening, preferably.

“Sorry.” Yuuri said, more to Makka than Victor. “I was so distracted with… With everything. I must have forgotten.”

“It’s not your fault.” And Victor was talking to the coffee machine, because he didn’t want to risk Yuuri noticing that his eyes got wet. Victor put a cup under the machine, chose a program and excused Yuuri as he went to the bathroom.

The face in the mirror wasn’t his face. Victor’s face was handsome and bright, no matter how many times he had been laughing when people had told him that, he knew it was true. But the face looking at him from the mirror was ugly. Red not from the coolness of the rink or a blush from badly hidden emotions, but from the tears collecting in his eyes and rubs that rather than hiding his weakness brought it out even more. He’d been so absorbed by Yuuri’s presence he had forgotten he just got up and his hair was a fluffy plica above his forehead. Victor wasn’t sure how long it’d been since his lips started trembling. Had it been in front of the coffee machine, or there in front of the mirror, when Victor realised there was no way somebody as flawless as Yuuri would ever want to date him for real?

“Are you ok?” Yuuri asked from behind the door, multiplying his perfection by yet another eternity. How Victor was supposed to ever catch up?

“One more minute.” Thanks God for all the reporters Victor had to wrangle with for most of his life. If it wasn’t for them, he’d collapse by the washing machine and wouldn’t be able to formulate a word. But he couldn’t do that. Like always, he had to take a hairbrush, flash cold water all over his face and get ready. Only one thing was impossible to fake having Yuuri nearby – smile. Not that Victor wouldn’t fall that low, he’d done it long time ago, but he didn’t have to. Having Yuuri by his side he couldn’t contain his grin, just that.

With Yuuri everything was better. Even though he was sure in his condition the coffee would be too bitter and the bread tasteless, they weren’t. Not when he was looking at the mess of dark hair and lovely faces Yuuri made trying new food. Food couldn’t taste bad when eaten having a genuine smile on his lips. With proper breakfast in his system, Yuuri next to him and the sky finally getting lighter, Victor eventually calmed down.

Yuuri kneeling and holding Makka’s paw. Makka trying to steal one of Yuuri’s gloves. Yuuri running after her. Snowy Makka rubbing on Yuuri’s jeans. Yuuri pretending to give her a lecture about that. Makka looking at Yuuri in complete oblivion. Yuuri turning to him, smiling, like a sunshine in the gloomy city. Victor’s photo collection was growing bigger and bigger, and with that he was slowly loosing feeling in his fingers. The tips were completely red and trembling in front of the screen, making the photos slightly blurry. It was one thing to take off gloves at the rink, where the temperature was always slightly above zero, and another to do it in the sever Russian winter freeze.

“Victor!” Yuuri was flicking snow from Makka’s fur. Saturday or not, it was too cold to let her outside for too long. “Stop it, you’ll drop the phone.” Yuuri stood up, took it from Victor and put it into his pocket. Then he pressed Victor’s fingers to his cheek. _Yuuri pressed Victor’s fingers to his cheek._

“You’re going to lose your fingers if you’re not careful.” Yuuri said and squinted.

Victor was stone still. Had Yuuri made a resolve to kill him with feelings before he left? If so, it must have been to kidnap Makka, who was jumping on them, unhappy to lose their attention.

Yuuri was very good at killing Victor, he realised, tasting Yuuri’s lips for the third time. Which was scandalously little, considering their first kiss was, what, thirty hours ago? What they'd been doing the entire time without kissing, Victor didn’t know. In the park, freezing cold and empty, the only warmth were Yuuri’s lip and tongue, tasting like coffee and neutral lip balm, and safe. It was a shame that Victor’s hands were so cold that tangling them into Yuuri’s hair would definitely ruin the moment.

It was weird. Victor thought that kissing Yuuri would turn his world upside down, that he wouldn’t be able to think about anything but the butterflies in his gut, losing control and sweeping Yuuri from his feet. But instead he was perfectly aware of anything he was thinking before, just it felt calmer. More as it should be. More complete. More…

Victor giggled, surprising himself.

“Your glasses.” He said and took Yuuri’s steamy glasses off to wipe them. “Here.” He put them back on his nose, smiling when he made sure they were sitting there straight.

“Thanks.” Yuuri said. Victor really wanted to know if he would blush if his cheeks hadn’t been red already.

“We should go back.” Victor said. “We can continue at home.”

Judging from the way Yuuri bit his lip and turned eyes, he would definitely blush.

Walking back to his apartment and thinking about all the possibilities of kissing Yuuri, hugging Yuuri, petting Yuuri, everything Yuuri, Victor hadn’t foreseen one thing. Thing that made sure he would never get to know how so nicely started kissing would develop in the warmth of his bedroom, thing that had been hanging above everything he was trying to do for a while. The thing was: Yuri coming over. Again. Victor was going to have a word with Yakov about giving Yuri spare keys to his apartment.

“Finally, losers.” Yuri said from the sofa the moment they opened the door. “How long can you draw along the poor dog in the weather?”

“You’re back.” Victor said dryly.

“Oh, hi, Yuri.” Yuuri said, sounding, too Victor’s delight, disappointed.

“I went home to get the CD.” Yuri explained, waving a flat box over his head.

Yuuri’s face turned scarlet.

“Let me see!” Victor swiped the box from Yuri’s hands before any of them could protest.

And maybe it would be better if they’d done it, hid the CD from Victor and protected him from the picture on the cover, probably cut off from the final scene from the music video. Instead of in the video, however gorgeous Yuuri was, the main focus was on the singer, and on the cover she was the shadow in the background and Yuuri, bending back on the pole and licking his lips, was the perfectly exposed dark figure on the deep red background.

The cover was actually a little album, over half of the photos showing Yuuri making incredible things, alone or with other people, and acting his face in a way that, indeed, made him a completely different person. None of them better than the other. The Yuuri Victor knew and kissed he wanted to sit on his lap and kiss him slowly, taking their time and looking in each other’s eyes as if it was the first time he ever kissed. And considering how it felt with Yuuri, Victor was willing to admit all his previous kisses were lies.

But the cover Yuuri… Victor had to make an effort not to whine while looking through the album. The cover Yuuri he would take straight to bed and tear off his clothes, not because he had such a fantasy but because he was convinced he would have no control over himself. Unless the cover Yuuri said otherwise, because Victor would do literally anything the cover Yuuri ordered.

“Fine.” Yuuri said. “If you hide it right after, I’ll sign it. So we can finally proceed to make lunch.” He took the CD from Victor’s hands.

Victor realised that giving Yuuri his silver autograph pen was a mistake a while too late, but Yuuri wasn’t suspicious about that. He’d probably seen so many of them he didn’t consider it something extraordinary to keep at home.

Yuuri leaned over the kitchen counter a little too long for just a signature. Victor knew that for sure, he had a lot of experience with that. He looked quite happy with himself when he was done.

“Here.” He gave the CD to beaming Yura.

Yura looked at the cover and his smile dropped, along with his face getting reddish.

“You asshole!” Oho.

“What is it?” Victor tried to look over Yura’s shoulder but Yura kept dodging.

“Fuck of, geezer!”

“Come on, let me see, Yuratchka!”

“I told you to FUCK. OFF!”

Having no other option, Victor grabbed Yuri in his waist and fall with him on the coach, where he managed to take the box over. Yura crossed his arms.

_“For sweet little Russian Yuri, the expert in ruining moments, with LOVE, Katsuki Yuuri <3”_

Victor snorted. Yuuri used the “LOVE” in the title and added a few Asian signs above his name.

“I need to get my own copy so you can sign it too.” Victor grinned.

“I don’t think so.” Yuuri said, watching them from the kitchen counter.

* * *

I was almost noon when they stopped teasing each other and Yuuri took the ingredients out of the fridge. He had three hours left. Not enough. It wasn’t enough from the very beginning, but now it was painfully little. And he had to get his backpack from Eska’s, which wasn’t on the way from Victor’s apartment to the bus station, which shrunk his time to about two hours, after which he was going to become just a silly memory in Victor’s life. Unless…

**Yuuri:** Are you busy?

**Esca:** I’m always busy

**Esca:** What is it?

* * *

The smell of fried meat spread all over the apartment, making Victor’s mouth water and forcing him to keep an eye on Makka all the time. Which wasn’t a problem, because, to Victor’s sorrow, it took Yuuri a few looks at his doing in the kitchen to replace him with Yura, destroying his fantasies about sexy cooking together. Yura, on the other hand and to Victor’s surprise, was a very efficient cook, so together the two of them made a professional looking meal in under half an hour, in which Yura kept giving Victor mocking looks.

“It smells delicious.” Victor said when they sat to the table. “Do you make it often?”

“No, actually. It’s very fattening, so I only have it for special occasions.”

“So visiting Russia counts as one.” Victor beamed.

“Well… I always make it on my birthday. But this year I spent it on airports and bus stations so there was no time before.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Victor said, feeling betrayed. _Not that again…_ “We’d prepare… something.”

Yuuri shrugged.

“What? Hi, I’m Yuuri, came here for rehearsal and oh, by the way, it was my birthday yesterday?” Yuuri snorted to his plate. Victor followed.

“I can’t believe I looked up to any of you.” Yura said, looking at his plate.

“Fine.” Victor ignored Yura. “But I could get you something.” He pouted in the way he used to when he'd been a kid and wanted to make Yakov feel guilty. Oh, did the pout outdated?

“Nope, you wouldn’t. My carry on is already in its limit, in every possible way.”

“You came all the way with just carry on?” Victor didn’t sound too surprised. He didn’t, right?

“Yes?” Yuuri swallowed. “What, is it weird?”

“N-no.” Victor said, pressing a hand to Yura’s mouth. “Of course not. It’s just so cold here, you need clothes.”

“I travelled in most of my clothes on.” He _what_?

“That’s… creative.” Victor said.

The doorbell rang.

“Who is it now?” Victor moaned, annoyed that yet another person wanted to interrupt his last moments with Yuuri.

“Oh, it must be Esca.” Yuuri said. “I asked her to bring my backpack here. I… Um… I thought that you’d agree to drive me to the bus station.” Yuuri said, looking everywhere but at Victor.

“Yuuuck! Of fucking course the geezer wants to drive you to the station. The loser would drive you all the way back to America if you asked him, blah!” Viktor heard Yura being a brat when he went to open the door.

Esca came in as if she entered her own flat and not a strangers apartment and, indeed, she carried an old stuffed backpack.

“Hi there!” She greeted. “Oh my God, Yuuri, what are you eating? Nevermind, can I kidnap him for a second?” And she grabbed Yuuri’s arm, rising him from the table and leading him to the… toilet?

“Not here.” Yuuri murmured and led her to Victor’s bedroom instead, shutting the door behind them.

Yura looked at him, startled.

“I’m your only normal friend.” He said.

“Who says you’re normal?” Victor teased back.

“At least I know how to chop an onion, unlike you.”

They were bickering over Victor being a pathetic loser and Yuri not a normal person at all when the bedroom door opened. Esca left first, giving Victor a mischievous look, and Yuuri right after, carrying his backpack.

“Alright sweethearts, gotta go.” Eska said. “I leave my Yuuri in your hands to drive him for his bus.” She leaned to Victor. “ You won’t fuck it up, right?”

Victor swallowed.

“N-no?”

“Good. Otherwise we’ll have to see each other for ballet again.” Esca said sweetly, a threat in her eyes.

“She’s joking, right?” Yura asked nervously.

“I don’t know.” Victor whispered.

Esca hugged Yuuri, kissed him in both cheeks and said something Victor couldn’t understand. When she went to the door she turned back.

“See you in February, Yuuuuriii!” She said.

“Hey, don’t jinx it!” Yuuri shouted after her, but she closed the door.

* * *

Looking at Victor's apartment for the last time Yuuri tried to memorise it. There was the funny hanger that he was afraid to use a first, there Makkachin’s den crowded with toys, and there the kitchen counter, where the memorable kefir incident had happened before Yuri interrupted them. Floor to ceiling kitchen windows, that let all the white of snow in for the few hours in a day, the countless lamps above the kitchen, that at first seemed an unreasonable whim but came out perfect for chasing off the clod dark of Russian nights. Oh, and there was the sofa that, accidentally or not, so perfectly corresponded with the blue of its owners eyes. And behind that door the bedroom, where Yuuri spent two nights with Victor that, despite everything, were the most peaceful nights since he remembered.

Yuuri didn’t want to leave. He tried to fool himself that he didn’t want to leave the comfortable flat, only to come back to his small, shared bedroom, but that wasn’t the truth. He didn’t want to leave Victor. He was scared of leaving him. The few days were so unreal, so unlike anything else in his life that leaving them behind might mean losing them forever. They were too small, too fragile to survive in the hustle of their lives. They were not enough. Lacking great, memorable events that such relationships should contain, and the sudden gust of heart that would throw them kissing in the bedroom and the next morning nothing would be the same.

Instead, Yuuri had had to excuse Victor for trainings, ruin his sleeping schedule, feed him katsudon that was nowhere near as good as his parents’ and offer his two unexperienced first kisses, that were so bad Victor hadn’t even known how to react. And top that all with forcing him to drive him to the bus station, as if he couldn’t call a cab like a normal person. But he couldn’t, not if that meant looking at Victor’s profile for a while longer.

It was so incredibly unfair that they had to live so far away from each other. Even if Yuuri was accepted for the dance company, he knew that eventually they were going to practice somewhere in Western Europe. So that was probably how it was supposed to be from the very beginning. The world just hadn’t made them for each other, letting them meet only to bait with another “what if” and tear apart right after.

It was just as it should be. They would text each other. For the first few days at least. And then they would stop, as always when it came to Yuuri and long distance relationships. Victor would insist a little and Yuuri would make excuses, and in the end be too embarrassed to call back ever again. It was the future meant for them. So why it pained so much?

* * *

The bus disappeared behind the far away corner and Victor had no more reason to hold his tears.

Meeting Yuuri was the worst and the best thing that had ever happened in his life. It was too much and not enough. Intense, yet reserved. Because, who were they trying to fool, it was a while, a glimpse in their lives. Sixty eight hours stolen from Yuuri’s life, sixty eight in which Yuuri was proving him that the graceful dancer he saw in Lilia’s studio was only the trimming, final touch to the beautiful gem that Victor had gotten a chance to fondle in his fingers, only to drop it with the first wave and never find in the sand of his life again.

Because why Yuuri, world class dancer, starring in music videos that got millions views, looking like the personification of sex itself, getting prise from Lilia even without a respectful ballet academy diploma and Yura’s approval just like that, why would such a human miracle pay attention to Victor, lost in his own life, having a child as his only friend and ugly crying Victor. And why Yuuri, the supreme dog whisperer, shy Japanese boy who was pretending to hate kefir in Victor’s favour and was so adorably embarrassed of his own success, would want Victor, the proud world champion and a liar, social butterfly who could never stay in one place and would sell his soul just to please the crowd?

The answer was easy. He just wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one and only Russian sentence in the entire chapter, that you already know, is:  
Друг виктора. Два человека. - Victor's friend. Two people.
> 
> Thanks for reading! What happens in this chapter feels very far away tbh, I'm mentally somewhere between 8th and 9th. Maybe that's why it feels kind of... weird. I'm also not very happy about the beginning this time, but I feel it would be very unbalanced if I only presented Victor's life and ignored Yuuri's, even if OC's aren't that interesting to read ^^
> 
> And, finally, I've got hard time rating the story. It was initially meant to be only up to "Teens and Up" and after 5th chapter I kind of freaked out and rated it up but I'm not sure how to deal with it tbh. If you've got any thoughts on how it should be rated, please share.
> 
> Hope your week's better than Victor's and mine xD and see you a few days :)


	7. Fire of love

_5th of December, Petersburg_

**Victor:** Have a safe journey Yuuri!

**Victor:** Already miss you

**Victor:** Makka misses you too

**Victor:** *sends a picture of Makka looking sadly to the camera*

**Victor:** Are you ok?

**Victor:** Is the trip fine

**Victor:** *is typing*

Yuuri ignoring him right after disappearing in the bus torn Victor apart. Have they been already over? Had Yuuri crossed him out of his life the moment he’d left the city and, along with that, the memory of him? Would he even remember if he came back in a few months? Would they be strangers again, after all of this? How? How would that be even possible?

Victor, back on autopilot, fed Makka, walked her and, again, ignored dirty dishes, ignored tidying after the afternoon sit in and stretching that he was supposed to do that day and lied in his bed crying, crying, crying… At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he was woken up by beeping.

**Yuuri:** Oh hi!

**Yuuri:** Sorry, but no wi-fi in the bus and so I got it only now

**Yuuri:** I caught wi-fi at the airport

**Yuuri:** I still got some time before the flight and nothing to do

**Yuuri:** Are you there?

**Yuuri:** Would you trade another picture of Makka for sth else? :D

**Yuuri:** Hello…?

Oh God, why Victor had to be that stupid? Yuuri had asked him for the Wi-Fi access for a reason, damn it.

**Victor:** Hi <3 <3 <3

**Victor:** I was worried

**Victor:** Something happened

**Victor:** Or

**Victor:** You don’t like me

**Victor:** :<

**Yuuri:** Don’t be stupid

**Victor:** ;___;

**Victor:** m fine now

**Victor:** what’s sth else?

Victor had a weird feeling Yuuri’s nudes didn’t count as something else, unfortunately.

**Yuuri:** First poodle nudes, than sth else ;D

Oh, but they were reading each other’s minds, in a way. Points for him.

**Victor:** idk

**Victor:** How do I know there’s sth else

**Yuuri:** You’ll have to trust me

**Yuuri:** I wouldn’t lie to you

And there it was. Victor’s guilt back at full strength.

**Victor:** Ok fine

**Victor:** I know you wouldn’t

**Victor:** *sends a picture of Makka on his bedding*

**Victor:** Is that good?

**Yuuri:** The best

**Victor:** Now what’s sth else?

**Yuuri:** Well

**Yuuri:** :P

**Yuuri:** *sends a picture of phone case with blue poodle pattern*

**Yuuri:** How about that?

**Victor:** I want that

**Yuuri:** Too bad

**Yuuri:** Only one in the entire duty free

**Yuuri:** And I’m not giving it away ;D

**Victor:** ;___;

**Victor:** *sends a picture of Makka’s back*

**Victor**: Makka says she won’t forget the treason

**Yuuri:** *sends mirror selfie of himself sticking his tongue out, with the blue poodle phone case on*

**Victor**: Makka will consider forgiving you if you send another pic ^^

**Yuuri:** Wait a sec

The second spread into a minute and longer, so Victor dragged himself up to the kitchen and put the dishes into dishwasher.

**Victor:** Too loooong

A rumble in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since they had lunch with Yuuri. He found cake leftovers and took out some butter to indulge himself a little. He was pouring hot water into a mug when his phone beeped.

**Yuuri:** *sends a picture of a fan of colourful poodle phone cases*

**Yuuri:** Which one do you want?

Victor carefully put the kettle away and looked at the picture. Orange – no, green – not really, definitely not black, was it gold or yellow…

**Victor:** The pink and purple :D

**Victor:** <3

**Yuuri:** No

**Yuuri: **For real

**Victor:** The pink and purple <3 <3 <3

**Yuuri:** No

**Yuuri:** That won’t go with your clothes

With all the respect and love Victor had for Yuuri, he wasn’t the best person to judge what would go with anyone’s clothes.

**Victor:** This will most definitely go with my clothes

**Yuuri:** Are you sure?

**Yuuri:** I mean your current case is mostly black…

And his previous had been pink, just like his costume, but he couldn’t write that.

**Victor:** I definitely sure

**Victor:** Makka is a princess

**Victor:** And she won’t accept anything but pink and purple

**Yuuri: **Fine, you won

**Victor:** \o/

**Victor:** This is the best win in my life

Victor spread a generous amount of butter on his cake and put a heaped teaspoon of jam into his mug.

**Yuuri:** What were your previous wins then?

Shit.

**Yuuri:** Cause that sounds like it’s the first time you’ve ever won anything :v

**Yuuri:** Not that it’s something bad…

**Victor:** Well that’s definitely the first time I won a cute phone case for my princess

**Yuuri:** That’s fair

Phew. Dodged.

Victor sent him a picture of his tea and cake to change the topic.

**Victor:** Now I’m really gonna get fat

**Victor:** Unless Yura invades me tomorrow

**Victor:** Which is really unlikely tbh

**Victor:** I’ll be sitting here with Makka as my only companion and binge on all the cake of the world D;

**Victor:** Alone

**Victor:** Almost

**Victor:** Makka sleep now

_An incoming call from Yuuri._

_OH. MY. GOD!_

Victor pressed the green button and grinned.

Yuuri was sitting in an almost empty café and munching a sandwich. He tilted his head.

“Did I wake you up?” Yuuri asked.

“No, why?”

“Your hair is…”

The universe indeed hated Victor. Despised Victor. Mocked Vic…

“…it is…”

“A nasty wisp.” Victor said, resigned. “I know.”

On the screen Yuuri bit his lip.

“I think it’s cute.” Yuuri said. “Sweet. I mean…”

_How?_

“…it looks like cotton candy.” Yuuri ended.

Oh.

“That’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever heard.” Victor said and bit his cake.

They were eating for a while in silence, observing each other on the screens. Inside, Victor was screaming.

“Right.” Yuuri said. “That’s why I called you.” He leaned aside for a second and then waved the pink and purple phone case in front of the screen. “I got it for you.”

“Yuuuuuri!” Victor beamed.

Yuuri smiled teasingly.

“But how are you gonna pick it up?” He asked.

“I… What?” Victor said.

“How are you gonna pick it up?” Yuuri repeated.

“I… You… You can send it to me!”

Yuuri’s smile spread a little.

“I can, but I won’t.” He waved the case in front of the screen again. “If you want it, you have to pick it up yourself.” Yuuri blinked and ended the call.

* * *

_6th of December, Tallinn_

Yuuri ended the call and fell loosely on his chair. What the hell had he done. What had he been thinking? Victor didn’t even mention the… Nevermind. All the bravery he gathered during chatting with Victor burned out within two minutes of video chat, for most of which Yuuri was watching Victor eating cake. He should stop wondering what Phichit would do in certain situations but, to tell the truth, Yuuri didn’t have much experience himself, so he mostly relied on his friends second-hand one.

He wouldn’t mind to date someone, only if it wasn’t for the… dates. Like five firsts, that could turn out awkward, or too cheesy on his side, or just really bad, by all means because of Yuuri. Which might have been the reason why he hadn’t fucked it up with Victor, not officially at least. Because, formally, they hadn’t been even on a single date. They only… Hanged around together. Practiced modern and ballet. Slept in one bed. Kissed in a park. Shit.

Yuuri ended his meal and prepared his first boarding card. Victor didn’t text him anymore. Maybe it was too much? He always had to do something like this, act above his level and then not be able to catch up, making an impression of a person rather than the actual person. And Victor probably preferred the impression. Everyone would prefer the impression, to be precise.

Stepping into another tiny plane, with only a pair of seats between the window and the gap, Yuuri felt claustrophobic. The moment its wheels would lose touch with the ground he would move away from Victor faster and faster, faster than ever during the week, until there would be an ocean between them. Yuuri didn’t want that.

Victor still didn’t text him.

* * *

_6th of December, Petersburg_

The call left Victor surprised and hanged up over a piece of cake in its way to his mouth. Was that an invitation? Or was Yuuri just teasing him, being just as cruel as he was sweet? Victor didn’t know. And didn’t care in that moment. He was content, having something in his stomach and chatting with the love of his life, even if supposedly one-sided, he came back to the bed, hugged one of many pillows and fell asleep, that time peaceful and recharging.

There was no new message from Yuuri when he woke up. Victor was wondering where he was at that moment and wanted to text him, but before he was fully woken up, Yakov’s dedicated ringtone called.

“What do you think you’re doing, Vitya?” Yakov’s yell was so powerful Victor didn’t need to use speaker.

“Being yelled at?”

“I want to see you at the rink in half an hour, no excuses.” Yakov hung up.

Why the... Oh… Right! Because Yakov had booked the rink for them for the Sunday before the final! But having Yuuri by his side and crying about him leaving he’d completely forgotten. Even though Yura mentioned it that week once or twice. Or fifty times, to be precise...

Yakov had already been in bad mood, because from his students only Victor, Mila and Yuri qualified to the final and, which made things even worse, there were skating pairs and juniors qualified from Moscow, which would make Yakov even more pissed in Barcelona. Victor better watched his ass, and Chris’ sticky hands had nothing to do with that.

He came to the rink to be sent directly to the medical examination room, which he left a while after and started his off-ice warm up. Only to see Yakov staring at him from above and glaring like a devil.

“Do you really have no respect for me?” Yakov asked, hitting his heel on Victor’s mat.

“I… What?” What had he done that time?

“Keep doing it, and you’ll roll down the hill before the season ends.” Yakov growled.

Victor sat on the mat and looked up, aware that it made him look like a child, but whatever.

“What are we talking about?” He asked.

Yakov rose his eyebrows.

“About your examination, brat!” Yakov yelled.

“Is something wrong with that?” Victor smiled politely, getting ready for a storm coming.

In 3… 2… 1…

“You put on weight almost an entire kilo while slightly declining your muscle mass, what do you think you’re doing, you said you’re an adult and could take care of yourself and what’s that? How do you want to jump like…”

_Blah blah blah_, Victor thougt, he’d run it off before… Shit. They were leaving the next day.

“…are you listening to me?!”

“Yes?”

“What did I say?”

“I… you… diet?” Victor wasn’t listening.

“After Barcelona you’re back on the box diet.”

“What? No!” _Just not this shit again._

* * *

_6th of December, Europe_

Catching up on sleep during the short flights and running between them, trying not to mix the boarding cards and lose his backpack in the process, Yuuri didn’t have time to actually rest. Feeling dizzy and with passing time kind of gross, he was checking his phone every time he could connect to an airport Wi-Fi, but there was nothing from Victor. He got a message form Angela, who announced she’d pick him up in Detroit, and a string of photos from Phichit, trying to pack himself for the final. He had never been so disappointed getting a message from Phichit.

Victor was stubbornly silent. Fine, first he was sleeping, but after a few hours, when Yuuri was boarding in Munich to eventually cross the ocean, Victor must have woken up. Was that too much? Had he scared him off with the call? Or had he found it and decided to never talk to him again? Damn, why Yuuri had to always have such stupid ideas?

* * *

_6th of December, Petersburg_

Feeling down since he didn’t get any new message from Yuuri, Victor was half-heartedly filling in his suitcase with clothes and mouth with cottage cheese. He packed his gear bag first, checking off points in an app it was easy, but when he moved to the next part and had to choose clothes, pack a suit, toiletries and everything that he’d used to be excited about, he realised that he didn’t care. Paraphrasing Yakov, he could go out in anything and would make it to the gossip sites anyway. He only wanted to pack Makka, however impossible it was. And Makka, the smart girl of him, tried to pack herself.

Victor snapped her sitting on his dress shirt and wanted to send it to Yuuri when he remembered. As far as Yuuri knew, Victor wasn’t going anywhere, so there was no point in sending him Makka next to his open suitcase. Shit.

He went to chase Makka from the bed and his phone beeped. God, was that Yuuri?

**Yuri:** Yak asks if you packed

Victor was very disappointed.

**Victor:** Why would he ask that

And he added the latest pick of Makka, it was too good to keep it from the world.

**Yuri:** Cause you act like a kid lately? Maybe that’s why?

**Yuri: **I take it as a no then

**Victor:** I’m working on it

**Victor:** I’ve got nothing to wear though

* * *

_6th of December, Detroit_

Angela picked him from the airport smiling wildly and pulling him right to her car with excitement, in contrast to Yuuri, who must have looked like a living dead. At least he felt like one, trying not to stumble while Angela was beating through the crowds with a strong grip on Yuuri’s wrist. She took his backpack and Yuuri didn’t even protest, cause he didn’t care. She was talking the entire time, but to Yuuri’s understanding it could be English or could be Italian, he didn’t have power to process it. All he could think of was the terrible jet lag awaiting him along with physical exams and a hint of anxiety because Victor decided to ignore him.

He sat in Angela’s wretched car, looking vulgar compared to Victor’s. When Yuuri thought about it, Victor’s everything was so slick.

“So, how did it go?” Angela asked. In the car there was no more crowd to pretend he couldn’t hear her. “You weren’t very talkative during the trip and Esca, that little brat, was super secretive.” Angela whined, and turned left in a way that had nothing to do with Victor’s smooth driving.

“It went well.” Yuuri said. “I think. I won’t get the results until January, but they seemed rather happy with me...” Yuuri was fighting with yawning the entire time.

“And how’s Esca?”

“Fine, but kind of… scary.” Yuuri admitted.

Angela giggled.

“What has she done?”

“Nothing in particular. Apart from forcing gross food in me. And she bullied all the local gangs in the area to be “her people” kind of thing, although all of them are twice her size.” Yuuri yawned particularly heavily. “So you don’t have to worry about her I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant, but we’ll come back to that later.” Angela looked up, for the short while ignoring looking at the road. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” Yuuri admitted.

“Good.” Angela smiled to herself.

It was yet another time during one week when Yuuri fell asleep in a car to woke up in a different place than he expected. Yuuri unstack his eyes and looked around the area.

“Eh… Angela?”

“Yep?”

“It’s not where I live.” He said, looking around more, just for sure.

Angela blinked and looked… weird.

“Oh. Peach didn’t tell you?” She asked.

“Didn’t tell me about what?”

Angela laughed nervously.

“He went a little wild packing before Barcelona and there’s a little bit of mess in your room. So he asked me to take you for the night to my place.” She said.

Sleep deprived Yuuri couldn’t decide whether it was totally Phichit or not Phichit at all, but he had no power to argue and left the car. He couldn’t wait when he’d be finally able to fall asleep in his own bed.

* * *

_7th of December, Petersburg_

Makka was sleeping in a far end of the bed because Victor was wrangling the entire night. His luggage was all zipped and ready, mainly thanks to Yuri video calling him and hustling thorough the process, while sitting on the other side of the screen on a fancy sofa with a weird, un-Yura-like dignity and petting Potya on his lap. Victor could swear he’d heard Yakov complaining in a background for a couple of times and Lilia going out at some point. After the morning weight affair he had a proper breakfast prepared in the fridge, along with the coffee machine ready, so that he’d only have to press a button after waking up, his favourite mug waiting by its side. His documents were hidden in the carry on, he'd talked to his neighbours about Makka and tried to ignore questions if he was ok. A pile of clothes for the flight was waiting on the commode. Seemingly, everything was perfect and prepared to wake up fresh and ready and jump in.

Only that hadn’t been the point. After being pressed by Yura to get ready he’d done all the other things, like thoroughly cleaning the coffee machine, going through his fridge and even cleaning a little in general, to avoid thinking about Yuuri. He knew he was travelling his crazy route, he knew he had almost no time between certain flights and he knew he hadn’t been sleeping enough for a week, but with every minute without a text from Yuuri something was dying in Victor. He didn’t want to be an imposer and decided to wait until the time Yuuri should be landing in Detroit with his next message, which would also give him time to decide what was the whole phone case call. But at the same time Victor was hoping for Yuuri to text him first. Which made no sense, like everything in Victor’s life.

Victor stretched an arm to the nightstand and looked at his phone. It was a while before four in the morning. Too early. A chill went down his naked body and he covered himself, trying to chase away the lonely cold feeling. A while later he had to uncover himself for something like tenth time that night, because the duvet felt overwhelming and hot on his skin. His pillow was hot too, already pressed to his face from every possible side. Victor threw the pillow on the floor, adding it to the two previously thrown ones, and reached for another. Ah, yes, the blessed coldness of a fresh pillow. The apparent, fleeting feeling of relief. Victor breathed in the pillowcase and straightened an arm to the side, since there was no more pillows on its way. He felt something smooth and hard under his fingers. Had he left there a book?

Victor almost ignored it, when a warning signal appeared in his head. There shouldn’t be anything in the bed. Not at all.

Having nothing better to do in the sleepless night Victor sat up, turned on the nightstand lamp and looked at the bed. There, previously hidden under the pillows, a small face of Yuuri stretched on a pole was looking at him provocatively from the CD cover, surrounded by round handwriting on the red background. Victor couldn’t look away.

Through the years of sport emotions filling in Victor’s life completely, for a while being even too much for him to store on his own, Victor’s childhood memories washed out. They were there in his head, but many of them he remembered in scraps or couldn’t quite connect with a person, or a place, or even time of the year. One of them was the kettle. The kettle had fascinated him when he was a little boy, probably even before he’d started skating, and burned out in his memory as a vivid, moving image and a small piece of abnormally smooth skin on the right above his bellybutton. But even knowing that the kettle hadn’t been safe to touch for little Vitya, he couldn’t have resisted.

The kettle alone, being put aside, cold and empty, hadn’t been very special. It’d been half round, big and reddish, and scrapped in many places. The magic had been happening when the kettle had been filled with water and set on the stove lid. Then the fire under it would have been lit and, much slower than in his modern, electric kettle, the water would have boiled. But little Vitya’s favourite part had been at the end, when the water had been ready to make tea or brew herbs. It’d been easy to tell, because there’d have been a vapour stream quickly escaping the spout along with a loud noise. They’d have disappeared the moment somebody’d risen the kettle up and disconnected it with from the fire. And if shortly after that they’d have been connected again, the show had been immediately resumed.

One day little Vitya had had to investigate it, so he’d climbed on a high stool and put the kettle up and down and up and down on the stove, until someone’d come in. A little bit of hot water had licked on his belly, making the mark that had never left him. But even though the pain the kettle hadn’t stopped fascinating him, so the other day, making sure no one had been around, little Vitya had been staring at the hot boiling kettle for too long. So long the kettle had burned, because no one had refilled the water.

Victor was lying in his bed, smelling ink from the photo paper and stroking the scar. He became a kettle, he realised, and Yuuri was his fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fire Of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wvX1E_uYhs) by Jesse Jo Stark
> 
> For the first two chapters I borrowed the title from the song "Living in a World Without You" by The Rasmus, but the song itself has nothing to do with the story. And in this chapter it's kind of the opposite, the song is mood™ (if this was a TV series I'd play it with the end credits lol /o\\) and it's gorgeous so I totally recommend listening to it :) Also, the next two or three (or more) chapters will have song titles as well cause I'm a piece of garbage and cannot title myself D: Stay tuned <3
> 
>   
I'm going to edit some typos and mistakes I've seen in the previous chapters this week, since I have to reread them before proceeding with the rest of the story, so feel free to text me if you see anything to correct, it'd be very helpful tbh :)


	8. With a little help from our friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood: [_With a little help from my friends_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQyVW8WkOcY) by The Beatles  


_6th of December, Detroit_

Yuuri dragged himself behind Angela to the merciless fourth floor without a lift and leaned on a wall while she was searching all her pockets for the keys. She eventually took them out from her coat that even half-aware Yuuri could swear she’d searched two times before, and opened the flat. A smell of fried pork and onion along with something sweet escaped the apartment. Angela stepped into the dark room, pulled Yuuri in and closed the door, leaving them in the darkness. Yuuri had no force to question that and he shook off his first layer when the light lit unexpectedly, blinding him for a few seconds. Along whit that he was stunned with a loud scream from many people at once.

“Surprise!”

_Sur-prise?_ Yuuri managed to think before his brain put all the elements together, adding extra information like _Happy Birthday_ banner on the wall and somebody popping a bottle of sparkling wine.

Oh. Oh _no_. He had the best and the worst friends ever.

To Yuuri’s relief the surprise party wasn’t too long, closing in two hours thanks to Mia. Which made a lot of sense, because initially Yuuri couldn’t quite understand why wasn’t she sleeping that late into the night before the end of the semester, but the mystery was quickly resolved when once all the program’s point were covered she was the first to hurry all of them to their homes.

They started with quick toast made with shots of espresso, double for Yuuri, which was the only reason why he hadn’t fallen asleep the moment he sat on the coach. Being hugged by the entire gathering, consisting apart from him, Angela and Mia from Mia’a boyfriend, responsible for opening the bottle, Phichit, who after all wasn’t busy packing for his first big final, and Ketty, their friend and music student from the same university, that Phichit had been so nice to try to hook up with Yuuri once, unsuccessfully on both sides.

When Angela brought in their attempt to katsudon that, to Yuuri’s shame, was better than his own, he tried not looking at Mia who would rip him out of his skin if she knew it was his second within two days. They flashed it down with more wine and Angela disappeared in the kitchen with Ketty to come back a while later caring a casserole of apple crumble and presumably twenty four tiny candles lit on it. Ketty started singing _Happy Birthday_ along with Phichit shooting photos of his ashamed face and Yuuri wanted to disappear. But all he could do was blowing off the candles and commit the ultimate dietary suicide.

Meanwhile his phone was beeping in his backpack, but he didn’t hear that.

* * *

_7th of December, Petersburg_

Pressing Makka to his chest Victor sobbed and licked a tear from his cheek. Why Yuuri wasn’t answering? Not even reading his messages, and Victor knew he’d landed three hours ago, he’d googled that right away. Victor didn’t ask for a long conversation like the night before, but he wanted to just know if Yuuri was ok, while he ignored him. Or maybe something had happened? Victor couldn’t quite understand why Yuuri would ignore him completely like that, not after finding the CD under his pillows. Someone else could do that and never talk to him again just to break his heart, but not Yuuri. Doing this would mean being a terrible, cruel person, and Victor was convinced Yuuri was nowhere near to any of that. He was lovely, calming and charming in the sweet, relaxing way, however intoxicating his dancing could be.

So why was he silent?

* * *

_7th of December, Detroit_

Despite Angela’s slight protests Mia called a cab that took her, Ketty, Phichit and Yuuri back to the campus. Thomas was living in an opposite direction, nearby Angela’s place, but Mia called another cab for him not even asking. Yuuri was trying to pay attention to what they were chatting about in the way, but all he kept was the only significant information, which was that he was supposed to be in the studio at noon, the rest escaping his head the moment it reached it. He was smiling stupidly to Phichit while he was unlocking the door and fell onto the bed the moment his calves touched its frame. The rest was sweet, blissful darkness.

* * *

_7th of December, Petersburg_

Victor’s Healthy Proper Breakfast™ tasted like ash and the coffee was spirit vinegar. It took him almost half an hour and three glasses of water to deal with them. The entire time checking his phone and making sure he hadn’t accidentally muted it. But he hadn’t. Once he forced the food in himself he took the CD out of his carry on. Then he packed it back. Then checked the message app and put it out. And repeated it until the dawn, then took Makka for her second walk that day to feel a little better.

Only it made him feel even worse, because the closest park was The Park, The Very Park In Which He Kissed With Yuuri. ™. So he went in the opposite direction, but there he was attacked by the bakery. The Bakery, In Which…

Victor came back to his apartment.

He unpacked the CD again. He wiped his tears and knocked to his neighbours, surprised when the young woman opened rather than her grandmother. She was wearing a fluffy dressing gown on a set of pyjamas and her nose and eyes were visibly irritated and red. Despite her own condition, she asked Victor if he was ok. Which was by all means bad. Victor only nodded, smiled and left the keys, as he always did. Back in his apartment he forced lunch in himself, petted Makka and having no one else to say goodbye to, took his luggage. The CD was shining on the kitchen counter. Victor sighed and put it back into the carry on.

* * *

_7th of December, Detroit_

First thing Yuuri knew after waking up was Phichit jumping on the side of his bed and obstinately poking Yuuri’s cheek.

“Wakey-wakey, Yuuri!” Phichit said in sing-song voice. “It’s almost ten and you still have to make yourself usable and kiss me goodbye.” Phichit grinned, pressing Yuuri’s glasses on his face.

“Mmm…” Yuuri articulated. “Fine.” He sat up on the bed and, to his surprise, Phichit shoved a plastic cup into his hands.

“Since your diet is enough off trail till now, I thought one more indulgence won’t hurt you much more.” He said, sucking on his own smoothie.

Yuuri didn’t want to argue with that.

“I guess I have to eat anyway.” He shrugged.

“Exactly!” Phichit said. “And I’m sure nothing rises morals before an important competition like a cheat meal with your bestie.” Phichit smiled even wider.

“Maybe…” Yuuri said, taking first sip of his smoothie. Oh, it was actually quite fruity and probably wouldn’t even count as cheat meat if it wasn’t for the obscene amount of whipped cream and syrup on top.

“You know what else rises molars?” Phichit asked.

“Kicking your ass before you leave.” Yuuri said.

“Nope, not that.” Phichit rose his eyebrows. “Telling me who was texting you so furiously when we were at Angela’s.”

“What?” Yuuri said, trying to make it up and then it clicked. “WHAT?”

He turned his backpack upside down and found his phone. Forty-six unread messages from Victor. From before _hours_.

**Victor:** O

**Victor: **M

**Victor: **G

**Victor: **Yuuriiii

**Victor: **I found it

**Victor: **Thank you <3

**Victor:** Me too

**Victor: **<3 <3 <3

**Victor: **This is the best ever

**Victor: **you’re the best ever

**Victor: **I’ll keep it in a special place

**Victor:** I miss you too

**Victor:** Miss you already

**Victor: **<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

**Victor: **why didn’t you tell me before

**Victor: **Yuuriii

**Victor: **Yuuuuuuuriiiii

**Victor: **Yuuri?

**Victor: **Are you there?

**Victor: **Yuuri!

**Victor: **Is everything ok

**Victor: **I checked and all your planes landed

**Victor:** Did you miss any?

**Victor: **Yuuri?

**Victor: **Have I done something wrong?

**Victor: **Yuuri

**Victor: **Please tell me

**Victor: **Is everything all right

**Victor: **Not that I wanna bother you but Makka insists

**Victor: ***sends a picture on Makka sitting in the kitchen*

**Victor:** Yuuri?

**Victor: **Please

**Victor: **Just tell me if you’re all right

**Victor: **And I’ll stop texting you

**Victor: **I promise

**Victor: **Promise promise?

**Victor: **Pinkie swear?

**Victor: **Yuuri?

**Victor: **Please

**Victor:** I’m worried

**Victor: **If you don’t like me

**Victor: **Just tell if you ok

**Victor: **:(

**Victor: **And I’ll behave

**Victor: **Please

**Victor: **Please

Oh SHIT. Victor was worried and he ignored him for _hours_. He hadn’t even texted him when he landed. How could have he forgotten about _Victor_? After the whole day of waiting for a message from him? Yuuri texted back ignoring Phichit, aware that he’d be more embarrassed with every passing second. He had to _act_.

**Yuuri:** Victor I’m so sorry!

**Yuuri:** I was so tired and my friends threw a little surprise party

**Yuuri:** I’m so sorry I just woken up

**Victor:** Yuuri! <3

**Victor:** You’re alive <3

**Victor:** And not hating me <3

**Victor:** Right?

**Yuuri:** Why would I hate you?

**Victor:** Cause you’ve already forgotten

**Victor:** About me

**Victor:** ;___;

**Yuuri:** Ofc not

**Yuuri:** I’m waiting for you to come and get your item

**Yuuri:** ;)

**Victor:** Oh

**Victor:** Right

**Victor:** Gotta go now

**Victor:** Text you later?

**Yuuri:** Sure

**Victor:** <3 <3 <3

“Well, now I’m intrigued.” Phichit said. “You didn’t wonder half an hour before every message and you grin to the screen. Was that Esca?”

Yuuri realised he grinned like stupid only when Phichit pointed it out. But there was no sense denying. A whole day without Victor did nothing to the cheerful feeling in his chest every time he thought about him.

“Nope.” He said.

“Now that was a comprehensive answer, wasn’t it?” Phichit sipped loudly.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. Victor wasn’t a secret, right? And maybe telling his friends about his crush would make it more real? Easier to maintain the illusion of a relationship for a while. So, slightly embarrassed, as he was well aware of the visible difference in their general looks, Yuuri took his phone and scrolled through the few pics of Victor he had.

“Let’s say I met someone I like.” Yuuri said, trying to decide which one show to Phichit.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have guessed.” Phichit said ironically.

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t laugh, ok?”

“Why would I laugh?” Phichit made a pretended pout.

“He’s kind of…” Yuuri couldn’t find the right word. He skipped the photo of sleeping Victor and the screen from their airport call. Stealthily taken Victor eating katsudon was too personal as well. Yuuri could choose from the few selfies of them together, a pic taken in the restaurant or Victor grinning next to Makkachin in his apartment. The last two making Yuuri realise what Victor was. “He’s just out of my league.” Yuuri said.

Phichit looked at him confused.

“How can anyone be out of your league?”

Yuuri returned the look. _Normally, I guess?_ he thought and decided for the pic of Victor in the restaurant.

“See now what I meant when I said he’s out of my league?” Phichit leaned over the bed and chocked on his smoothie. Yuuri was aware of the obvious difference between his and Victor’s appearance but that was mean. “You don’t have to be _that_ terse.” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

Phichit looked at him, consternation in his eyes, opened his mouths and then closed them and grinned. “I’m not. And who is he?”

“Oh. He’s name is Victor and he’s a…” Yuuri realised how tricky the universe was. Victor would have much more to talk about with Phichit. “…an ice skating choreographer. Maybe you know him?”

Phichit’s grin widened.

“_Victor_ is a _choreographer_?” He asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I think he made a program for a Russian boy who’s in the final with you.”

“Yuri Plisetsky?”

“I don’t know the second name but yeah, it’s Yuri.”

Phichit tilted his head.

“You met him too?” He asked.

Yuuri blushed at the memory of Yuri showing off to Victor the less respectable part of his dancing career.

“I’m not sure what’s the deal, but he spends a lot of time in Victor’s apartment.” Yuuri’s face twisted. “So, do you think there’s a slightest chance I won’t fuck it up completely within the next few days?” Yuuri made a dramatic gesture that he would be ashamed of if it was anyone but Phichit in front of him.

“You won’t fuck it up.” Phichit said. “And I don’t know any _choreographer_ called _Victor_, but I’m sure you caught one of a time specimen.”

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you wish.” Phichit glared at the photo sucking on his smoothie and all Yuuri could do was a loud moan.

* * *

_7th of December, Petersburg, Pulkovo_

Victor was staring dully at the airstrip that started moving slowly behind the window. He ignored the flight attendants presenting security procedures, Yuri teasing with Mila on his right and Yakov trying to calm them down from the seat in front of Victor. He desperately tried to hold himself together and look like the champion going to defend his title was supposed to. Instead he couldn’t help silent tears falling down his cheeks.

Yakov eventually calmed down the teenagers and looked at Victor.

“Has something happened?” He asked. “Vitya?” Oh, so the question was meant for him.

“Why do you think something happened?” Victor smiled weakly, ignoring his tears.

“You’re crying.” Yakov crossed his arms on the back of his seat. Victor didn’t cry in front of Yakov for years. The information attracted Lilia’s attention, who was sitting next to her ex-husband. Her head appeared next to Yakov’s and they both glared at him, making him feel like a schoolboy again. Victor swallowed under the glares, thinking of a reasonable response.

And then the sound of a new message made him jump on his seat. One, two… With the third beep Victor was already keeping it in his hand. The release was immediate once he saw Yuuri’s name on the screen. He didn’t hate Victor, he’d been just tired! Victor texted him back in the light speed, aware that he should put his phone into plane mode asap. They exchanged a few messages before Victor turned it off and happily fell asleep, half aware of Yura’s protests when Victor’s head leaned on his shoulder.

* * *

_7th of December, Detroit_

Having dancing classes to catch up and Mia breathing right above his neck about training before Thursday, Yuuri couldn’t join Angela and Ketty who drove Phichit and his coach to the airport. At least he really kicked his ass before leaving for the noon training, but their serious talk about Phichit playing a PR agent had to wait for the next week.

Yuuri came back to the dorm nine hours later starving, exhausted and gross. He found some leftovers from Phichit’s meals from the previous week and after shower went to the common area to heat them up. There were a few people hanging around on the floor, trying to be sociable and asking about his trip, but one look on Yuuri’s dark rounded eyes was enough to chase them away. Yuuri came back with the warm food and checked on Phichit’s hamsters. Making sure the door and windows were closed he let them out of the cage and checked out his phone. Nothing new from Victor. And it was middle of the night in Russia. One of the hamsters tried to invade Yuuri’s plate and instead of putting it away Yuuri took a photo and sent it to Victor.

**Yuuri:** Morning when you wake up ;)

**Yuuri:** A hamster for a dog? <3

Sweeping rest of the food to his mouth Yuuri sent the picture to Phichit as well and eventually fell asleep with the dirty plate on his bed and the phone on his chest. He woke up with two hamsters on his stomach and one shamelessly sleeping on the dirty dish. Ugh.

* * *

_8th of December, Barcelona_

Victor was floating on the water and looking at the sky. It was empty, dimmed by the city light like at home, and just as lonely. He could hear the traffic and life happening many floors under him but he wasn’t a part of them. He was drifting there, high above them. And high above others always felt the same – cold, dark and abandoned. Victor was alone, slowly cooling down and freezing off his nose, just like he had been for so many years on the ice. The last survivor.

And a pathetic liar. He’d woken up that day in his hotel room to Yakov knocking on his door to make sure he wouldn’t oversleep. The worst part had been that he couldn’t have really gotten offended by that. Sniffing his precious CD and smiling to Yuuri licking his lips on the cover Victor had dressed and gone to the hotel restaurant. Only then he’d given himself a permission to check his phone and holly shit. Yuuri had asked him for Makka’s picture. Sending him an old one hadn’t been an option, not after they’d spend two hours watching them together. Victor had had to act.

He’d excused Mila and Yura, sneaked out and done something he’d never done before. He’d called his neighbours. It’d been the elderly lady who’d answered it but, blessing in disguise, her granddaughter had been still sick and at home. Victor had ignored what’d been left of his decency and asked her to send her a photo of Makka. She’d been surprised at first, but agreed to send a few photos from time to time until Victor would come back. A quarter of an hour later Victor had sent Yuuri not one, but four photos of his princess and continued to pretend he’d been in Petersburg. Disgusting.

The following hours had been terrible. Yuuri had hardly had time to talk to him, sleeping when Victor had been awake and catching up on training and classes from the week he'd had off. Victor had known that. He’d known that were rational things for Yuuri to do, and that he should have proceeded to do his own, like training, having an eye on Yura and at least trying to socialise with the other competitors. But it’d been too hard to focus on any of those, so Victor had kept slithering between them until Yakov had called it a day and Victor could have escaped to the last place to visit in December. The hotel’s outdoor pool.

And so Victor’s life made a circle and expectorated him on another cold, lonely top. It made surprisingly little difference whether it was the top of the skating world or just a building.

He started feeling very chilly and going out of the water when someone came in. Chris. Wearing a skimpy robe and sunglasses although it was dark outside.

“I knew I’d eventually find you.” Chris said.

Victor dipped himself back into the water so that only his eyes were picking out. Why Chris had been looking for him?

“You were acting weird the entire day, you know that?”

Victor didn’t look at Chris. He knew. He hadn’t been talking to anyone but Mila, Yura and Yakov, and disappeared from the training facilities the moment he could sneak out. He’d been avoiding the competition and reporters at all cost, which had been surprisingly easy because no one would have guessed that the leaning person wearing a dull stretched hoodie was Victor Nikiforov, known from expensive clothes, chatting with fans, smiling to reporters and being the soul of every party.

Chris got into the water and stretched. Then accidentally on purpose he splashed some water on the top of Victor’s head, making him feel not like a man in his late twenties but like a teenager. Victor wasn’t sure when and where exactly, but at some point they’d been swimming with Chris in a similar pool during a competition, only that time it had been Victor cheering Chris and it response he got drowned all the way down and spent half an hour later trying to untangle his long hair while listening to Yakov’s screams about catching a cold. He’d almost forgotten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Victor said and leaned on the wall of the pool.

They looked at each other. They both knew exactly what they were talking about. But it was so much easier to cry through an app than it was in real life. Victor had never allowed himself to show weakness in person, whenever he’d tried his Media Shell would grow harder for sake of the damage control. And contribution to Victor’s very, very bad mental condition.

Chris took out his glasses and looked in his eyes.

“Fine.” Victor said. “But what did you expect? That I’d magically get better over a week and sparkle in another pointless competition because I don’t know better?”

Chris looked at him and Victor realised how unfair he was. It wasn’t a pointless competition, it was just Victor who got a problem. And he didn’t deserve Chris for all the shit he was saying.

Chris shook his head.

“Not _sparkle_, but at that point you’re worse than you were in Pekin. I didn’t expect _that_. Not a miracle, _cheri_, but I feel like the one or two sessions made it even worse.”

_Sessions?_

“What sessions?” Victor asked.

“With the therapist.” Chris rose an eyebrow. “You did go to a therapist, didn’t you?”

Victor swallowed. Shit. He’d been supposed to go. He’d _promised_ Chris he’d go before the final.

“No.” He admitted and hid in the water for a while. He resurfaced only when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. Chris was still looking at him with concern.

“Then what was the “thanks for your advice” message and silence right after?” Chris asked.

Victor swallowed.

“_Merde_, Victor, than what the _fuck_ have you been doing last week?”

“Spending time with the Asian boy.” Victor said. “And it _was_ your advice to ask him out if I met him again.” Victor rose a finger, trying to turn it into a joke.

“So you asked him out?” Chris pointed a finger at him.

Victor dropped his.

“Technically not.” Victor said. “But we went out for a dinner, and danced and slept and kissed in a park. And he seduced Makka.” Victor added, as if the last point was settling the matter once and for all.

“You slept together.” Chris repeated. “But technically not.”

“You don’t get it, Chriiis, we didn’t…” Victor started but Chris interrupted him.

“God, Victor, don’t get me wrong, but are you sure your Asian boy isn’t another groupie kind of trash who’ll sell your photos a week later?” Chris had all the reasons to ask him that and for the first time Victor could deny.

“Hah!” Victor stood in the pool. “There’s absolutely no way he could do that, because he’s got no idea who I am!” He said it as if it was a kind of an achievement. Because it felt like one, actually.

“How can he not know?” Chris asked sceptically. “Maybe he’s just pretending.”

Victor didn’t feel offended by the question. He felt mocked in his face. And betrayed, and terribly misunderstood. Not to mention how could anybody doubt in Yuuri’s, the pure human being’s, intentions? Yuuri was perfect. There was absolutely nothing fake about him.

“Let me inform you that he absolutely wouldn’t do that.” Victor said. “And besides, he’s a world famous dancer that even Yura admitted to know, so I’d be a tacky additive to him at best.”

“And you told him what? That you’re what, an accountant?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chris. I told him the truth. That I’m Yura’s choreographer.”

Chris took a deep breath.

“You don’t understand.” Victor pouted.

“You’re right. I don’t.” Chris said. “When are you going to tell him?”

Victor was quiet. He didn’t know. His imagination didn’t run out that far. And preferably – never. He wanted Yuuri to never see his media persona, to never look at the interviews in which he was acting polite, never find gossip sites about his media dramas and love affairs and never put him on the pedestal of his skating persona rather than see him as a person.

“At some point.” He finally said.

Chris looked at him in a way that Victor didn’t like. It was weirdly familiar to yesterday Yakov announcing the boring box diet back on the wall.

“Let’s make a deal, _cheri_.” Chris said. “Or it won’t be a deal, it’ll be an ultimatum. After the final ends I give you a week to find a doctor and make an appointment. Preferably have the appointment during the week. You’ll take Yura with you, so I know you won’t be cheating. And if you won’t I’ll call Yura and contact your Asian boy right after to tell him who you are.”

“No, Chris…”

“Don’t no-Chris me, Victor. At this point you give me no choice. It’s good to know there’s something that serves as a serious threat to you.”

Victor was looking at the traitor of a friend thrilled. He might sign up for the stupid therapy if he had to, but he definitely wasn’t ready for Yuuri to get to know the truth. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri x Phichit x Victor’s pic scene was initially meant to be 200-300 words long, yayks Chubby, you only needed quadruple of that *facepalm*
> 
> I let myself move Victor’s and Chris’ pool party a day earlier (I think) for the sake of the plot ;)
> 
> Also. I'm not sure, but there may be a longer break (two weeks or sth like that) between this and the next chapter. A lot happens in the next one and it came out longer than I planned but it doesn't feel right to split it so like... If there's a break I didn't quit it, it's just the 9th chapter getting on my nerve and Google search ^^


	9. Breakfast of champions

_8th of December, Detroit_

The photos of Makkachin in the morning made Yuuri melt with adoration, but he was disappointed that Victor hadn’t attached a single one of himself. He was so pleased he almost ignored Phichit’s message that they’d landed safely in Barcelona. He sent Phichit more pictures of the hamsters before closing them in their cage and then considered making a sleepy selfie for Victor, but he didn’t want to impose, so he sent all his love and adoration for Makkachin, closed his phone and run to the morning class.

The following two days and a half leading to his advanced ballroom dancing final were merged into a single string of events, in which Yuuri tried to catch up with Mia, attend all the extra classes he missed last week and in the meantime get as much sleep and nutrients as possible. But in all that the thought of Victor was still present on the edge of his mind and Yuuri was somehow grateful for Phichit who’d forced him to spit it out about Victor before leaving. When he’d asked him if he’d fuck it up within the following week it sounded like a silly teasing, but when Yuuri was lying in his bed and fighting with dropping eyelids to text back something, anything to Victor, it felt very real. He didn’t have time, no matter how much he wanted to, to give Victor all the attention he deserved, and Victor seemed to see it as if Yuuri wasn’t interested, which was quite obvious from his messages. Yuuri couldn’t blame him for that in slightest, that was exactly what he would have thought if the situation was reversed.

And yet along with that Yuuri dared to be displeased when Victor made excuses in the rare whiles when they caught each other free or didn’t want to send him selfies that Yuuri, what a bad way to describe it, carved. He got few, one of Victor smiling sleepily on a pillow, one of him in a chain restaurant and one from a swimming pool locker room, that made Yuuri sweat.

Meanwhile Mia was screaming about him spending too much time on his phone, because after Phichit had left Yuuri didn’t have the gut to tell anybody else about Victor. He could maintain it for a while, excusing himself for classes and resting, and confront once Phichit was back in Detroit. And until then he was grinning to the screen in silence.

* * *

_9th of December, Barcelona_

Avoiding others came out to be easier than he expected, but also much more depressing. After yesterday’s pool incident Victor didn’t feel like talking to Chirs, deaf to his requests to promise not to tell Yuuri, ever, without Victor’s approval. Chris had only pointed that promises between them apparently hadn’t worked very well if Victor couldn’t have kept his own. Victor had left the pool hurt and feeling misunderstood.

His rink mates had abandoned him, first Mila leaving immediately after her training with an Italian skater, than Yakov went somewhere with Chris’ coach and Lilia announced she was meeting a friend who came to see the final. Victor planned to stick to Yura since he’s gotten used to his presence within the last months, hoping to hang around together, but Yura’s fan club had other idea, chasing them through half of the city. At first it had been even funny, but when they tried to get lunch and got surrounded by a crowd of hysterical teenagers they’d split up to fool the pursuit. Once the group of cat eared girls realised he was alone they’ve lost their interest. Sometime later Victor saw on Instagram a picture of Yura on a motorcycle with somebody and realised he was the last one left on his own. Like always.

And there he was, hanging around the Christmas Market, sipping from a cup of heated wine that tasted as fake as the entire skating crib and looking at other people who came there in groups or as loving couples. He was weirdly convinced that the same wine wouldn’t taste so fake if there was Yuuri by his side. Victor changed hands with his shopping bags that were full of impulse purchases and snacks bought out of spite for Yakov and himself and passed a group of people singing carols.

He sat on the stairs of a church behind them, not sure if he was allowed to do that and not caring in slightest, and took out his phone. He scrolled through his Instagram feed and, having nothing better to choose from, added a photo of paella from before hours. It was much less weird than him adding nothing at all. Then he switched to his new Messenger account, only a week old and made specifically for Yuuri, who’d admitted he hadn’t really used Instagram (what a relief) and hadn’t questioned it when Victor had said Facebook hadn’t been very popular in Russia and he hadn’t had an account. The second part being a lie, obviously, but for then Victor couldn’t have given Yuuri neither his official fan page address nor his private account which really was private and closed, but was also full of figure skating shit. So instead he made a new one, called himself Macchiato Poodlove, added a photo of Makka as his icon and, explaining that no one he knew actually used Messenger, gave it only to Yuuri.

Victor stretched his legs on the stairs, downloaded a picture of Makka in a park he’d gotten from his neighbour and sent it to Yuuri with a string of heart emoji. Yuuri answered immediately. Victor had been right, the wine could have tasted better.

* * *

_9th of December, Detroit_

Yuuri smiled to the picture of Makka and, having nothing better to offer, made a selfie and sent it back. It wasn’t very pretty, he was slightly reddish on his face, his hair a mess and glasses missing, sitting by the studio mirror. Maybe it was the stress before performing in front of the examination board, but he felt like there was something off about him and Victor. And Yuuri didn’t want anything to be off about them.

* * *

_10th of December, Barcelona_

In the morning of the short program Victor was greeted by a couple of things.

First was Lilia, knocking on his door in her own, stern and short way, unmistakable with Yakov’s loud and chaotic version. Victor opened the door and got spiked by her cautious eyes.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Fine.” Victor said before he remembered that for Lilia it was not an answer.

“Vitya…” Lilia started.

And that was something. Lilia never Vitya-ed him. She always called him by his full name or surname if he did something particularly stupid. The last and only time she’d called him Vitya had been when he’d been laughed at because of his hair and it’d been before he’d entered the senior division, Victor was sure of that.

“…is everything ok?”

Oh yeah, Lilia’s eyes didn’t just look like a hawk’s. They were also working like that.

“I just need a while to get ready.” Victor said, not looking in her eyes.

“If there’s anything you want to talk about…”

“There’s nothing.” Victor interrupted her, surprised with himself.

Lilia stayed there a while longer and went away.

The second thing was Yuuri, with three hamsters trying to climb from his shoulders onto his head. Victor wasn’t a hamster person but if Yuuri was one he was more than willing to adjust. Adorable. The message under the photo was _“Before the first big final day”_ and Victor froze for a while before he remembered it wasn’t about his free but about Yuuri’s exam. He was going to join Yakov’s balding mans’ club if he continued doing that. Victor asked what time was the exam, actually very excited about it, and switched to see what’s new on the Instagram.

Chris texted him, asking if Victor still wasn’t talking to him. Victor considered that. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Chris, so… _Nope, I’m fine_, he responded and put the phone away. He took out his precious token CD, sniffed on the ink, which became his habit during the last three days, and opened it on one of his favourite pages, where Yuuri was lying on his back on the floor leaning his naked legs on a pole behind him and tilting his head back to look at the camera. Victor whimpered.

And the third thing appeared right after with another knocking. Victor, irritated, got up and prepared himself to chase Yakov away, but it was Chris, carrying three cups and a paper bag and spreading a smell of something tasty. Victor swallowed. He should have called Yakov along to yell at him right after.

“_Bonjour_.” Chris said walking in and closing the door with his hip. “Considering how shied you acted yesterday I thought you’d rather eat in your room.” He put the containers on the table and sat on the windowsill.

“Whatever.” Victor said. It was good to talk to Chris. At least he didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else.

Chris removed the lids from the cups, revealing coffee in two of them and something chocolaty smelling and visibly thicker, and unfolded the bag with a pile of churros inside. Victor felt his mouth water.

“Yakov’s gonna kill me.” Victor said.

“As far as I know he’s gonna kill you anyway.” Chris said, taking a churro, dipping it in the chocolate and putting into his mouth in the Chrissy way. Slightly obscene, that was.

“Why this time?”

“Because, if I can rely on the rumour, you left Yura on his own while you were supposed to watch him and he ended up riding on a motorcycle through the entire city and, citing my coach, _Yakov won’t stop any of you if you wanna get killed, just do it after the season ends._”

Victor rolled his eyes and took a churro.

“And, citing Yura, _he’ll be soon sixteen and can take care of himself_.” Victor said.

“I only repeat what I heard.” Chris blinked. “I think you can compensate a little coming for the training on time, for a change, or maybe even earlier, like Yura does all the time.”

Victor opened his mouth to say something, but realising how mean and stupid it would be he bit more of his churro. Without the chocolate it wasn’t sweet at all.

“Fine.” He said, more to please Chris than do anything for Yakov. “Let me change and we can go right after.”

With a churro in his hand Victor leaned to go through his only partially unpacked suitcases, which was rather unlike for him, and find some training clothes. Preferably from one of his sponsors, Victor reminded himself, but were had he packed them? He took out a pair of branded sweatpants that was on the bottom of the pile of clothing when Chris got up from his place.

“What’s that, _cheri_?”

“What?” Victor turned around from his place on the floor too late. Chris was already holding his sacred, one and only copy of On Love: EROS by… Nevermind the artist. “Chris n…”

But Chris was already looking at the cover and his eyebrows went all the way up to his hairline. Chris whistled.

“So that’s your Asian boy.” He said.

Victor was next to him in a fraction of a second and took the CD out of his hands.

“If you’re gonna use it to blackmail me than it’s none of your business.” Victor said and hid the album behind his back.

“Victor, don’t be ridiculous. It’s all over social media. I must have watched your Asian boy for a dozen of times not even realising that.”

He what?

“At least I know he’s not a sneaky fan.” Chris admitted and giggled. “God, I didn’t think all it takes to seduce you for good is jumping on a dance pole and do a few advanced moves.”

Victor snorted.

“I absolutely adored my Asian boy before I was informed he’d ever touched a pole.”

“And the fact you saw him like that did nothing to strengthen you adoration.” Chris said, smiling mockingly.

If it was anyone but Chris Victor would try to defend himself, but having Chris he only whimpered again and stuffed his mouth with more churros. Damn it, Chris.

* * *

_10th of December, Detroit_

After his dietary crimes Yuuri woke up carving something yummy and not necessarily healthy. Like fried onion rings from the burger restaurant on the way to the campus, dipped in mango mayo and washed down with sweet lemonade, or a crepe full of nut cream and chocolate sauce. He knew it was the effect of all the off-track foods he’d put in his system last week and took a bowl of overnight oats from the fridge. Cold, soaky, healthy and boring. A perfect meal before an exam. He went to the common area to heat them just a little and waiting for the microwave beep opened his Messenger. The Universe was an asshole.

First, Phichit had sent him his Instagramable pictures from a café, showing four take away cups and a package of long cakes. _Morning churros, baby *kicks your ass before tonightday ;**_, the description said. Phichit was a monster. Sencod, Victor had send him a photo of Makkachin sleeping in her den and a selfie with a cake similar to Phichit’s, dripping chocolate on his fingers, and Yuuri had to make an effort to convince himself there was nothing suggestive about it. _I’ll be fat and happy_, the message said. The Universe was a bitch. But Victor’s honest smile caused by the sweet treat was enough for Yuuri to forgive the Universe, just that one time.

* * *

_10th of December, Barcelona_

Something about Yuuri’s adorably unhappy face over a bowl of unidentified pulp unpleasantly resembling what Victor was expected his diet would look like back home for a while, combined with the chocolate and the little bit of endorphins driving him after the morning training made Victor feel slightly better. Not in the competitive mood he’d used to be, when he’d gushed with energy, smiled to everybody and wished good luck to his competition, seeing nothing ironic about that, whatever the gossip magazines had been writing. But he was excited for Yura, polishing his short most of the morning instead of focusing on his own practice, which earned him a group reprimand from Yakov, Chris and Yura himself. Victor just laughed at them and left the rink with a smile, which only widened when Yuuri sent him the morning picture.

With men’s short being last in the schedule they had almost the entire day to themselves. Mila wasn’t skating until the next day, so Victor retreated to his bedroom to catch up on sleep that he’d been neglecting lately and sniff more ink. Yura had gone with Altin anyway and Chris disappeared along with another skater, leaving Victor with the double-J-blah. Victor sunk into a pillow and, finally contented, fell asleep, in which he was dreaming about Yuuri skating in his old costumes, but that time the idea felt calming.

He was woken up by an incoming call on Messenger. Stretching like a cat and making all his joints sound he tapped the green button without thinking.

“Hi there.” Yuuri’s voice said from the phone. “Sorry, I should’ve asked you first…”

Victor stiffened. A storm of feelings went through his mind and body, including shock, surprise and terror, but all that hardly recognizable compared to the huge wave of joy.

“Yuuuuri!” He murmured sleepily and looked and the screen, still lying in the bed. “It’s so good to see you.”

Victor couldn’t see on the little screen if Yuuri blushed, but the way he tightened his lips and escaped his eyes for a second were all the same.

“Every time I call you sleep.” Yuuri pointed out.

“I could say the same.” Victor smiled.

“Because you call when it’s night here.” Yuuri said.

“Then I need to get myself a watch with your time set on it.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“You called to check on me if I was sleeping?” Victor popped out the tip of his tongue.

“What? Nooo… You weren’t responding and I just wanted, eh…, talk to you.” Yuuri said.

“I’m glad.” Yuuri wanted to talk to him. It was good Victor had already been lying, otherwise he’d melted cartoon-style onto the floor.

“You don’t understand. I have the exam in four hours and I’m getting nervous.” Yuuri looked aside. “I’m always getting nervous. Usually I talk to my roommate to calm down but he left for the week and has something important to attend, so I’m not sure if he…”

“It’s alright.” Victor said. “You can talk to me whenever you want.”

Yuuri observed him from the screen for a while but eventually relaxed.

“Good.” He said. “I just need to talk to someone I like before.” Yuuri smiled.

Victor rose his eyebrows.

“You like?”

“Y-yeah.”

“But Yuuu-riii…” Victor stretched his arm to the nightstand. “I thought you more than just _like_ me.” Victor waved his signed copy of On Love: EROS in front of the camera.

“Oh my God.” Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “I changed my mind. I just wanted to talk to Makkachin.”

Victor was grateful for the CD in his hand because he could hide his holly-_fucking-SHIT_ face behind it. Act natural, he scolded himself.

“She’s sleeping in her place and I won’t move from here. Too warm and comfy.” Victor yawned meaningfully and hugged his pillow closer. “I’ll have to please you myself for a while.” He blinked and watched Yuuri tighten his lips again and get red enough for the camera to catch. Nice.

* * *

_10th of December, Detroit_

Yuuri was nervously walking through the snow covered sidewalk, trying to forget about the image of Victor that burnet out in his head. His hair in mess falling onto the pillow, eyes sleepy and only half opened and a sweet smile spread on his face, as if he hadn’t been fully aware of the situation after being just woken up. His one visible cheek was reddened from lying and the other pressed flat to the pillow. He must have kept the phone very close, Yuuri could clearly see his fair eyelashes, a line from pillow just under the left eye. The painful swelling on his forehead turning greenish that he’d kissed softly if it hadn’t been a video chat. He hadn’t been given the opportunity to see Victor waking up next to him and God, he _fortunately_ hadn’t. Otherwise leaving Petersburg would have destroyed him.

He came to the studio early, having more than necessary time for a proper warm up and being before Mia so he sent Phichit a good luck message. The first performance of his final was starting along with the exam and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d have time to do it later. Phichit responded immediately, sending him a selfie and more good luck wishes for Yuuri. He said he was skating first so he’d be done before Yuuri started or they’d make their performance simultaneously. There was something cheering about it.

Once Mia came Yuuri had to abandon his phone and do the warm up, than wait for the order list to be stick to the door. It appeared there punctually at four. They were the last couple to perform.

* * *

_10th of December, Barcelona_

Victor watched Yura skate his “tiger” program cleanly but also mechanically. He wanted to blame the too sharp at times music for the general harshness of Yura’s moves but he knew it was something about Yura himself. Something was still missing. He left the kiss and cry annoyed, ignored Victor and went to cheer on the Kazakh skater. Right.

**Victor:** How was the exam? <3

**Yuuri:** We’re still waiting

**Yuuri:** We’re last today

Just like him, Victor thought.

**Victor:** Is that bad?

**Yuuri:** Would be better somewhere in the middle.

**Yuuri:** ;)

**Yuuri:** How is Makkachin?

**Victor:** *sends a photo of Makka leaned above her bowls*

**Victor:** Hungry

**Yuuri:** Oh

**Yuuri:** Isn’t it too late?

Of course it’s too late in Russia, but it’s from before hours.

**Victor:** She insisted

“Vitya!” Oho. It was getting close to his skate.

**Yuuri:** It’s our turn

**Yuuri:** I’ll text you after <3

“Vitya! You can be a grown up man, but I swear…”

**Victor:** Can’t wait <3

“…I’ll start confiscating your phone for the time of competitions!” Yakov yelled.

Victor rolled his eyes but blocked the phone and handed it to Yakov. The Kazakh, Otabek, Victor remembered, started his routine and the double-J-jackass that had pissed Yura so much at Rostelecom started stretching in a pretentious way next to the ice gate. Victor had hardly noticed him the previous year when they shared the podium in Sochi and thought that maybe Yuri was overreacting but looking at double-J sparkling with his teeth so much even Victor’s media smile seemed honest and friendly and remembering how the asshole had dawn talked to Yura about his fans in the hotel lobby he thought Yura might have had a point. When he was passing the double-J the Canadian might have said something to him but to very bored and annoyed with the whole situation Victor it could be a fly passing his ear all the same. Yakov gave him a surprised look but said nothing when Victor sat on the bench to check his laces.

“Can I get my phone back?” Victor asked when Otabek left the ice.

“I don’t think so.” Yakov growled.

“I want to listen through my music one more time.” Victor said.

Yakov frowned. Maybe it wasn’t a weird request but Victor hadn’t been doing that since the beginning of the season. Yakov dropped the phone on Victor’s open hand and said nothing.

Victor hurried to untangle his headphones and plugged them in time to drown out the Canadian’s self-admiration parody of a song. Unexpectedly, the first day of the final had gone really well and the fact he slept through half of it surly had nothing to do with that. When the double-J took the ice Victor closed his eyes and pressed the play button. The song itself hadn’t been spectacular. The worlds more silly than provocative and the singer’s voice too high for Victor’s liking. But none of that mattered because at that point Victor had accidentally memorised it and could recreate in his head all of Yuuri just listening to the song. Every move of his skilled legs, every bend of his back, every provocative smirk on his lips. Every tiniest detail of his lovely Yuuri.

That night ice felt exceptionally smooth under his blades and his score reflected that. Victor broke his own record for short program, even if by less than half of a point. Smiling rather out of habit than actual joy he waved to the cameras and Yakov… Yakov looked weird. He never gushed with superstitious joy, not since Victor entered the senior division, but that evening he seemed… cheated. Fooled. As if he couldn’t quite understand what had just happened.

They left kiss and cry and Victor took his phone out of his jacket. The moment he realised he couldn’t share the achievement with Yuuri even his media smile faded. He felt fooled too when he remembered he must have kept Yuuri not involved. Harden the shell and be the pretender.

But for what? What was the point of all of that? There wasn’t any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today the notes are quite long so if you’re not interested or in hurry there’s nothing super significant down there, just a little bit of explanation on my characters’ behaviour choices and the general set up of the fic. I also treat them a little bit like notes to my future self so don’t feel obligated to read them if you don’t feel like it ;) Or you can scroll to the announcement at the end :p
> 
> As you might have noticed I made an actual summary, yay me \o/  
In the end I had to split the chapter because it didn't stop on 6k words and grew to over 9k which is neither good for me to post and edit, nor I find convenient reading this long chapters on ao3. I’m also happy that I didn’t postpone it as I planned cause I kind of know it would be more and more difficult to handle with every passing day and now it’s done, yas!
> 
> I got a beta for a few chapters (not for language issues though) and he pointed that it’s not very realistic for Yuuri not to get on Victor’s track after Phichit and Yura attended the final. First, Yuuri hardly knows Yura and though it’s not said exactly in the text, at this point they don’t contact each other at all. Second, maybe Yuuri giving so little shit about Phichit’s passion is a little bit rude, especially that Phichit literally started Yuuri’s fan page and shit online, but I actually find it pretty much in character. Not to be openly rude, but to not get that excited about it. Besides, if you think about it, Yuuri IS rude to some extent. He’s an oblivious asshole who ignores others until Victor teaches him better… Why Yuuri doesn’t watch Phichit’s competitions or know other skaters’ names? Well, I live with a guy who plays in a rock band, not like from time to time, he mostly leads it and writes the music, and I’ve got no idea how half of the people who play with him look like. When they released their first video clip and he asked me if I liked it I said yes, and I watched it… almost one and half a year later -.-“ So yeah, it’s not that unlikely xD
> 
> Google list:  
Detroit Barcelona time Difference (like 5 times, just to make sure)  
Figure skating grand prix final 2015 Barcelona timetable  
Figure skating grand prix final 2015 Barcelona exhibition  
Figure skating grand prix final 2015 Barcelona banquet (the fact the photos didn’t lick out is the most fake part of the series)  
Barcelona churros  
*draws a timetable of Victor’s and Yuuri’s week to see when they meet*  
*plans to make one short chapter*  
*fails completely*
> 
> Soooo… so so so. I don’t know much about professional figure skating and competitions (maybe that’s why I had issues with this chapter xD) My mum’s been watching Worlds and Olympics figure skating since I can remember (ironically enough everything but men’s singles because it doesn’t count without dresses o_O) but I’m (and I’ll always be) a total noob at the organisational part of it so I mostly stick to the originally mentioned line ups in this fic and we have six skaters in the GPF
> 
> Last but not least, if you like my writing and sad storied, you feel like crying or your heart is a cold stone (like mine) I posted a short post-canon one shot in YoI universe, which you can read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241292) ;>
> 
> Love you all, thanks you so so much for every comment and kudos and see you next week :D


	10. The show must go on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Inside my heart is breaking  
My make-up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on_  
[_The Show Must Go On_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t99KH0TR-J4) by Queen  


_10th of December, Barcelona_

The door shut behind his back and Victor took a deep breath and felt the tears falling down his cheeks. He’d been holding them for long, too long, as he tried to escape the crowds and sneak from the nosy reporters. He’d ignored Chris congratulating him, which had felt bitter and salty no matter how much Victor had tried to convince himself Chris hadn’t been like that and it’d been all in Victor’s stupid traitorous head. He’d changed into his sneakers, left the wet costume on his back and asked Yakov to cover him and let him go. And Yakov, surprisingly, agreed.

Next morning Victor woke up with his cheeks tight from the dried tears. No one was knocking on his door, no one was calling and Makka wasn’t there to wake him up for a morning walk so for a while he couldn’t understand why he’d woken up but then he felt how thirsty he was. He emptied an entire water bottle and, still not satisfied, refilled it and added an isotonic pill. He drank that too and went back to the bed but after a while of wriggling and changing sides he realised he wouldn’t fall asleep again. Suddenly the room felt claustrophobic. Victor took his coat and gear bag and run out of the hotel. He wasn’t delusional that if the rink was open there would be free ice but he had to do something. Move. Run away from the lump of pointless and contradictory thoughts forming in his mind no matter how much Victor ignored them. He tried to jog along the promenade but it wasn’t enough. Too slow. After years of gliding through the ice effortlessly running has always been too slow to satisfy the need of air flowing through his hair.

He was pushing the rink door when something hit his back.

“What are you doing, geezer?” Yuri asked. He looked annoyed and sleepy.

Victor shrugged.

“I couldn’t sleep and came to skate before the crowd.” He said. He couldn’t get why Yuri was so angry.

“Oh, right.” Yuri growled, passed Victor and entered the building first. “You don’t talk to us commoners.” He shut the door, leaving Victor outside.

What? _What? The fuck?_

Victor hurried after him.

“What are you talking about?” He said when he caught up with Yuri.

Yuri looked at him with disgust.

“There are moments when I almost believe you don’t act stupid and you’re just an idiot.” Yuri said. “But then yesterday happens and I remember you’re an old stager.” Yuri entered the locker room and shut another door in front of Victor’s nose. And Victor had no idea what was going on.

“Can we consider for a while I _am_ the idiot and you’ll explain me why you’re mad?”

Yuri ignored him.

“Yuri?”

Yuri removed soakers form his skates, grabbed his skate guards and stopped.

“Whatever.” He said.

Victor was looking at him expectantly.

Yuri put on the guards and avoided Victor’s gaze.

“You act like you couldn’t care less the entire season, Yakov is constantly pissed at you but half of the time you’re not there so he redirects it to me, which alone is shitty. You don’t give a fuck during official practice, act like a jerk and constantly ignore everybody and then you go out, skate your fucking best and leave without a word like a fucking diva after tricking me for months that you’ve got some kind of depression.” Yuri aimed his folded socks into the opposite lockers and threw them. “Did I forget about something?”

In the time when Yuri changed completely Victor was sitting on a bench and trying to shake the shock off. So even that he was doing wrong. He was still sitting there when Otabek came to the rink and joined Yura and then more men were coming in but Victor was keeping his place. It got crowded but no one dared to ask him to move. Eventually, his phone rang.

“Da?” Victor asked, not looking at the screen and expecting Yakov.

“_Merde_, Victor. Where the fuck are you, _cheri_?” Chris’ voice on the other side of the line sounded panicked.

“Eh… At the rink?” Victor asked, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“You… What? Really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Shit.” Chris said, but there was a relief in his voice. “Don’t do that again.”

“What that?”

“Don’t disappear like that, God. I’ll be there in ten.”

Great. Victor had ten minutes to finally get his shit together. Too little.

“Chris?”

“Yes?”

“Do I act like a diva?”

Chris looked at him concerned.

“When did you get the idea?”

“Yura said I did today before training.”

They were sitting in the competitors area and waiting for Mila’s group to skate. Victor had been trying to ask the question the whole day but couldn’t with Chris’ latest boyfriend, who’d come the previous night, constantly nearby. So he took the opportunity when Masumi excused themselves and went to get something to drink.

“Well…” Chris started.

Victor glued his eyes to him.

“You act weird… …er than last year.” He said. “And you alienate yourself a lot so people might get the impression… Anyway, that’s part of why I told you to go the therapist. You acted quite the same in Pekin.”

_So that’s how it is_, Victor thought. He felt cold that had nothing to do with the chill of the ice rink. He’d let himself loosen the regime and people have already started seeing something was wrong. Before, he had been thinking that’d been what he’d wished for - other people to finally see he hadn’t wanted it anymore. But once it started happening Victor could only think about hiding. He didn’t dare to google himself, afraid of what the rags might have written till now. He looked away from Chris and smiled, for a trial. Put some balm on his lips and focused on the show, not just Mila. When he was leaving the rink he let a few reporters stop him and ask questions, explained he’d felt really bad the previous day, shining his teeth and enthusiastically commenting Mila’s performance. And forcing his actual self to behave and sit quiet.

* * *

_11th of December, Detroit_

For the first time in almost three weeks Yuuri didn’t feel like throwing his phone from the window the moment it rang in the morning. Having his ballroom dance exam out of his shoulders everything felt so much better. He didn’t have any pair exam until February, when would be his last, diploma show, part of which he shared with Mia. But until then he could get back into his introvert mode, prepare for his individual trials for credits and the last of his written exams next week. It was a good turn of events that he had the entire bedroom for himself that weekend. But first he had to get up for the last extra classes to attend after his trip, finally do the shopping, clean the hamsters’ cage and, eventually…

…Yuuri stroke the cool surface of the pole. He hadn’t been that late in the studio since America’s got Talent. It was his longest break since he started. He walked around the pole, touching it with the tips of his fingers and breathed. Then he did his usual warm up and wondered about a familiar routine to dance, just not to think too much and rely on the muscle memory more than on his head. Eventually, a little out of spite for himself, and a little for a completely different reason, he turned on his phone camera, placed it on top of his bag making sure the angle was right, leaned in front of it, blinked and went slowly to the closest pole. There was no music but Yuuri knew it by heart. He made a circle with his leg, turned around and started the Eros routine, imagining the camera lens was actually Victor’s incredibly blue eyes, roaming on the reflexes of light on Yuuri’s skin and getting darker and darker. Yuuri had never known he was such a tease, even to himself, but he liked that new feeling. It was the first time Yuuri danced through the whole Eros without_ acting._

* * *

_12th of December, Barcelona_

The sun was still touching the horizon when Victor got up to get ready for the breakfast. If he wanted to make a show he had to start acting from the very beginning, so he put on an orange hoodie he didn’t like in particular but had gotten it from a big sponsor and stood in front of the mirror to inspect his make-up and fake faces. Yuck. Why couldn’t he be like Yuuri, whom acting turned into a hot sex god and not into a trashy parody of a celebrity? Because the world was a bitch, obviously.

* * *

_12th of December, Detroit_

The smell of fresh laundry was filling the room along with instant coffee and orange peels that Yuuri hid on the highest shelf to protect them from the hamsters. Or hamsters from the peels? Yuuri wasn’t sure but Phichit always did that. He was lying on his bed legs up on the wall (what a great feeling after all the rush he’d been through!) and playing with his phone in the break from revising. His notes and copies where all over the bed along whit a few dying highlighters and mechanical pencils (Yuuri always preferred the wooden ones and it was ridiculous how much could be dictated by the presence of the sneaky little balls of fur living in their room). And of course the balls of fur themselves were ganging up to climb on Yuuri’s face in the least expected moment, he was sure of that.

But Yuuri had another dilemma which was: should he send Victor the video from last night? He’d lie if he said he hadn’t recorded it thinking of sending it to him, but when he actually had to press the sent button he just couldn’t do that. He was rather positive that Victor would love that and yet part of him was trying to convince him that he’d make a fool of himself, that it would be too much and Victor would eventually run away from him. But after the video call with Victor so deliciously sleepy in the bed… Yuuri hid his face in his hands. His break was ending and he couldn’t do that. Instead, he rose the phone as high as he could and made a selfie. Oh, the hamsters actually were approaching his head already. He sent Victor the selfie instead of the video, threw his phone onto the bed and grabbed the closest sheet of notes. He read two lines before Victor texted him back.

* * *

_12th of December, Barcelona_

“Have you seen Lilia?” Yuri stood above Victor, frowning.

“Nope.” Victor said, checking the foundation on his forehead on a powder compact mirror.

“Yakov neither.” Yuri seemed distressed.

“Isn’t she with the friend of her?”

“Friend?” Yura asked.

“Yeah, she said her friend came for the final and they had both booked places on the audience.” Victor rose his eyes from the mirror.

“She’s not answering the phone.” Yura said.

Victor shrugged.

“If you’ve got a last minute problem go to Yakov.” He suggested.

“Yakov cannot braid hair.”

Oh, _right!_ Victor opened his mouth.

“And when I asked Mila at Rostelecom she jerked away half of my hair so I need Lilia _now_.”

Victor giggled. He wished he’d seen the scene. But back to presence!

“Considering you ask so nicely I can do this.” He smiled sweetly, fully aware that Yura was still pissed at him.

“You?”

“Yes. Me.”

“You know how?”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“I had long hair for most of my life.” Victor said.

“Yeah, and Georgi said all you could do with them was a messy ponytail and they used to place bets when you’d finally cut it?”

They used to _what_?

“That’s a disgusting slander!” Victor said, breathing in sharply. “Do you want me to do that then or hope Lilia will answer the phone eventually?”

“Whatever.” Yura said, which was his habit lately, but sat on the bench next to Victor and handed him a few hairclips and a comb. “I’ll send you the style.”

“Cannot you just show me the photo?”

“Nope.”

“I got them.” Victor watched the pictures from a few different angles and parted Yuri’s hair into sections while the boy was readjusting goodies in his Cat Collector app. He put the pins into his mouth while braiding the first braid. The Thai skater passed them grinning and Victor could swear he was angling his phone in their direction but he was too involved in securing the first braid to look at him. He started braiding the second when his phone beeped.

“You’ve got a message.” Yura said and grabbed Victor’s phone. “Can I read?” And not waiting for the answer he unlocked the phone (how did he know the code?) and clicked the notification. “Oh shit. You’re still texting Katsuki.”

“What?!” Victor jerked forward to get the phone from Yura but he’d already uploaded a photo from Yuuri.

“Ouch! Watch your hands!” Yura yelled when Victor accidentally pulled a strand of his hair.

“Sorry.” Victor said without a hint of remorse. “Next time don’t open my private things.” He let Yuri’s hair fall down and smiled to the selfie he got. Yuuri was lying in a muddle of paper and stationary with his hair in lovely mess, glasses askew and a delicate smile on his lips. The hamsters were surrounding his head and one tried to chew the frame of his glasses. Yum...

“Victor!” Yura yelled. “Stop drilling to the phone, you look like stupid!”

“Wha…” Oh… Yura’s hair! Victor sent Yuuri back the latest pic of Makka cheerfully killing a stuffed alpaca, which most definitely covered Yuuri’s request to send him something pretty and focused back on Yura’s hair. When they were done Lilia was found by Yakov in the crowd stuck to a petite woman with a banner. Lilia left her with the audience and came to inspect Victor’s doing that fortunately came out acceptable. Victor breathed out the air he didn’t know he was holding and dropped onto the bench to contemplate Yuuri a little longer. And if he had the feeling somebody was watching him he just ignored it.

Chris blinked to him in his way to kiss and cry and Victor leaned on the band, pretending he was listening to Yakov’s last instructions. Watching Chris’ performance and seeing the score table he knew he was going to win the final. He’d have to fuck it up completely to lose.

Yakov stepped closer, put Victor’s fringe aside and looked at his face critically. He’d never done that but that time he had to inspect Victor’s make up before letting him go, otherwise his dark swelling would show and they couldn’t let that happen. Victor sighted and smoothed it again, which annoyed him because he felt the roughness of the dried hairspray rather that his naturally soft hair. But that was how it was. The entire competition felt artificial and Victor was just an old lion in the circus, shiny but fake, just like the smile he was getting ready to put on the moment his blades would touch the ice. He’d have to keep it until the music started and he could be himself for a while, because if there was one thing that wasn’t fake in the entire figure skating crib it was the skating itself. But for the audience skating was mere minutes and in between he had to appear and make sure no one could see through his shell. He was disgusting.

Just like he’d wished Yuuri had sent him a real good luck message, which’d been impossible, he wished he could send Yuuri a photo of his medal. The idea of sharing the moments with somebody he loved made the win feel worth it and significant, and maybe even would make him happy. But without that it was another trophy to gather dust in one of his drawers and an ironically regular payment on his bank account. Victor dropped the medal into the bottom of his suitcase, jumped back-down on the bed and called Yuuri anyway, just to hear his voice.

* * *

_13th of December, Detroit_

Yuuri decided he deserved a rest day and the Sunday before Phichit’s return felt perfect for that. He put his papers in a pile, collected his clean clothes, locked the hamsters and left the dorm to see Angela in a new vegan cafeteria that opened downtown. Not that he’d go there on his own but Mia’s voice in his head was repeating _healthy food choices_ and last week it’d gotten louder when Esca’s voice joined her. So vegan food let it be. Angela was late, like always, and Yuuri would have nothing against if it hadn’t been for one thing. People in the café recognised him. Or not him but the Eros video guy. First two girls came to ask for his autograph and he stared at them for a while too long when Angela came and saved him. Or rather when Angle came and said that of course Yuuri would love to sign their napkins. And Yuuri did so, just to be left alone.

They ordered (Angela ordered for both of them, Yuuri didn’t understand half of the menu) and Angela tried to force him to tell more about his trip (sorry Ang, but not until Peach’s back so I won’t have to repeat myself) and his relationship with Eska (like, what?!) but before they got the food another two girls asked Yuuri to sign their notebooks. Yuuri, resigned and surprised, agreed and was signing the second one when the waitress came with their food. And the girls only left when more people came to their table and why of earth some of them had CDs?! The mystery was solved by Angela who followed On Love: EROS tag on the Instagram: the first two girls posted their photo and tagged the café. And it was supposed to be his rest day, damn it!

* * *

_13th of December, Barcelona_

Maybe that was the fresh blood in the senior division, but the banquet wasn’t so regular after all. Yura had made a friend during the competition, which was great but also made Victor a little jealous. But the two of them were the youngest there, so it was only natural. Victor stuck to Chris and his date once the sponsors small talks had been done and he tried to keep Chris away from Yakov. Then Mila appeared and stole Otabek from Yura for a while, which Yura interpreted as an attack but didn’t protest when the Kazakh agreed to go. And then Yura stole Chris and his boyfriend and the three of them also abandoned Victor, busy exchanging pictures of their cats. It was ridiculous how always pissed Yura and dripping whit sexiness Chris could transform into squeaking to the screens balls of innocence only because of a few pics of cats. He surely acted more mature showing of his blessed pics of Makka.

The only skater who came with a girlfriend and whose name Victor could never remember although it was French so should have easily sunk into his memory approached him at some point and said something. But Victor didn’t hear it because he was too busy making sure that Chris and Yakov stayed far away from each other. Definitely not because he found that guy annoying. Then somebody tapped his back quite firmly, so Victor couldn’t ignore it and he turned around.

The Thai skater with a tricky name was grinning at him from behind. He ranked last in the final but there was no disappointment in his eyes, that Victor had seen so many times before in other skaters. Quite the opposite, they were shining in an unknown to Victor way, with neither envy nor adoration, and Victor couldn’t figure out what else it could be.

“Can I take a minute?” The Thai skater asked and grinned wider. Victor desperately tried to recall his name. Usually he’d have memorised all of them, maybe besides the double J bore guy, but this year he didn’t care about it just like about everything else. He remembered that it had something to do with a fruit, but what was the fruit? Strawberries, maybe? Or oranges?

“Sure.” Victor said, wishing he’d introduced himself but also knowing it was very unlikely to happen. “All the small talk rattled off?” Victor laughed nervously, trying to avoid anything incorporating their names.

“Oh, yeah. Not that I had too much to do.” The Thai said, and in any other tone it would sound like a complaint, instead of it didn’t. “My coach usually does half of the job.”

“Right.” Victor laughed. “Mine usually kicks me to the first row so I can get devoured by them.” Hopefully that didn’t sound like a complaint either.

“Can we take a selfie together?” The Thai asked.

“Sure.”

They started angling in front of the camera and the Thai was taking photo after photo, but every time was displeased with the outcome. Instead of the standard dozen to choose from after a few minutes his camera roll contained tens of them, the later the worse, because Victor started making faces. Eventually the Thai leaned above his phone and Victor hoped he’d post one of the photos on the Instagram so that he could get to know his name thanks to the blessed invention of hashtags.

“Phichit!” Victor heard Chris’ voice and the Thai looked around and smiled.

“Oh, hi Chris.” He said. At least Victor didn’t have to struggle with the name anymore but he also realised he’d lost the track of Chris at some point. Shit.

“I hope Victor didn’t bore you to death. Or infected with his clinical depression.” Chris snorted.

“Nope.” Phichit said, still looking at the phone while Victor gave Chris an outraged look. Chris shrugged.

“You know each other.” Victor stated.

“Oh, yeah.” Phichit said, putting his phone to a pocket. “We went to get breakfast the other day.”

“Oh.” That felt weird.

“Damn, Victor, if you didn’t alienate so much you wouldn’t meet people for the first time during the banquet.”

“I don’t alienate.”

“Then you’re coming to the after party?” Phichit asked.

“After party?” Victor tilted his head.

“I didn’t have time to tell him.” Chris waved a hand. “And of course Victor will come, even if I had to carry him myself.”

“What after party?” Victor repeated.

“Oh you know…” Chris put his arm around Victor’s shoulder and smiled predatorily. “…like the good old days.”

And like the good old days it was. In Chris’ hotel room, incorporating a lot of alcohol and initially blissfully private. But by the time it get crowded when Mila got to know about the cheerful gathering and dragged Yura, Otabek and her Italian friend along, Victor was having his third beer and while his Slavic genes had been effectively preventing hangovers of any kind for years they did nothing to help him stay sober. That added to the fact Victor was fresh from the banquet were he had some Champaign and that couldn’t end in a decent way. Victor’s defence systems were down till the time the teenagers came and he was babbling happily-unhappily about Yuuri to Chris, his boyfriend Masumi and Phichit, whom drunk Victor really liked because Phichit seemed to be genuinely interested in anything Victor had to say about Yuuri. The younger group came when they were watching Yuuri’s clip for the second time, Victor, who by the time memorised the lyrics, singing along while Phichit was recording the entire thing and drunk Victor thought it was a great idea.

Mila came with a stock of vodka and nothing to eat. There was no way it would end well. Victor was glad.

Yura looked from behind the women’s backs and his eyes met with Victor’s. He grabbed Otabek’s arm and tucked him.

“We’re leaving.” Yura said.

“What are you talking about?” Mila laughed and closed the door. “We didn’t even start.”

Mila sat next to Victor and pressed herself close, making space on her other side.

“Sara, here.” Mila said and the Italian sat there. “What are we listening to tonight?” She asked, looking at Chris’ phone which was lying in the honourable place in the middle of the bed.

“It’s not what we’re listening to, it’s what we’re watching.” Victor saw Chris blinking to Mila meaningfully, but then he looked at Victor. “Are you ok with them?” He asked.

Victor was not exactly ok with telling Mila but considering Yuri knew it was a matter of time, drunk Victor reminded him. So he nodded.

“Tonight we’re watching Victor’s future husband.” Chris announced as if he was opening a big party. Victor, Phichit, Masumi, Sara and even Otabek clapped their hands and cheered at the announcement, Yura made a face and Mila looked surprised. _Yasss…_ Drunk Victor thought. He hadn’t been too obvious in the end.

“Victor’s whom?” Mila asked.

Chris smiled in a terrible way, started the video for the third time and turned the phone to Mila, who watched it with her face dropped.

They didn’t have vodka glasses so they were shooting right from the bottles in a circle, skipping Yura (who was much less annoyed about it once he was allowed to take a shot and realised they were out of soda) and for most of the time Phichit, who for some reason tried to stay mostly sober. Or rather less drunk than the rest of them.

The amount of Yuuri’s dancing videos online was very limited, only the music video, America’s got Talent clips and some blurry training footage that Phichit dig out from the bottom of a fairly new fan forum that Victor had to ask Phichit about later. So they were watching the same videos for dozens of times and, to Victor’s delight, most of the gathering had nothing against it. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Yuuri being the most intoxicating thing after all, right after Masumi, Chris added, although Masumi seemed to be only half aware of the situation. Yura was acting pissed but then it turned to acceptance when Chris suggested it might have been too late for him and he should have gone to bed already.

Yuuri’s America’s got Talent semi-final show was playing for the fourth or fifth time, Yuuri changing poles mid-air in an elegant way, when Mila threw her arm on Victor’s shoulders.

“I’m so happy for you.” She said drunkenly.

Victor smiled, completely disarmed.

“I’m happy too.” He said.

“You have to take your Asian boy skating one day. I bet he’s gonna be beauuutiful on ice.” Mila said and closed her eyes dreamily.

“What is it?” Asked Phichit from Victor’s other side.

“What?”

“We don’t speak Russian you know guys?” Phichit smiled insolently.

“Mila said I have to take my Yuuri skating.” Victor said.

“Of course you do.” Phichit smiled.

“Yeah. That’s a great idea.”

Phichit studied Victor’s face for a while and Victor had the sudden thought there was something between them. But no, it was just the alcohol that narrowed his vision and from that close Phichit’s face felt intense.

“Do you like Yuuri?” Phichit asked and Victor laughed at him. He looked so serious.

Victor shook his head.

Phichit’s blurry eyebrows went up.

“You don’t?”

_Is the Fruit Boy stupid?_ Victor thought. He had to make it clear. He didn’t like the idea of anyone knowing about him and Yuuri and not taking his feelings seriously. So, to make sure Fruit Boy would understand exactly what he had to tell him, Victor grabbed his face, leaned closer and made a serious face. Well, he tried to make a serious face as far as it was possible having God knew how much alcohol in his body.

“Dude.” Victor said. “I don’t like my Yuuri. I freaking love my Yuuri. Do you understand?” Victor looked at him. He had to make sure _everybody_ understood.

Fruit Boy grinned and patted Victor’s back.

“Good for you.” He said. “_Dude_.”

The toaster twanged and Victor took out his toasts nervously as they were always too hot for his used to chill fingers. He moved to the next part of the breakfast buffet, passed jars of confiture on the table and picked up a few single serving jams and alike butter. Having everything he needed on his tray Victor went back to the table where Chris and Masumi were waiting for him, both looking wasted and miserable. With elaborate malice on his face he opened the first portion of butter as slowly and loudly as he possibly could and spread it on a toast, smoothing it way to precisely, scratching his knife of the crispy bread and trying to make as much sound as possible. He repeated the actions with a serving of jam and bit into the toast, making sure it was crunching under his teeth and humming loudly with pretended satisfaction. In fact, Victor didn’t even like finely toasted bread. Munching the toast he started tapping on his glass. Then he sipped loudly from his coffee cup and that was what it took to break Chris.

“Victor stop it.” Chris said on one suffering tune. Masumi nodded to second the request and leaned heavier on his chair.

“What?” Victor asked, smiling sweetly to them.

“This.” Chris waved his hand in front of Victor.

Victor ignored him and started preparing his second toast when Mila came and took the last free chair by the table.

“Don’t sit here, _princesse_.” Chris said. “Leave while you still can, this _enfoiré_ is a monster.”

“Aren’t you eating with Sara?” Victor asked, ignoring Chris.

“I wanted to but her shithead brother kicked me out when he got to know about tonight.” Mila made a resigned face.

“Since when you let Michele dictate the terms?”

“I don’t!” Mila said. “But Sara’s coach agreed with him and my head is too heavy to discuss with them. Damn, Victor, do you have to eat so loudly?”

“Told you to run away.” Chris threw in.

“I most definitely have to.” Victor said happily. He had to give Chris a lesson, that was what friends were for, according to Chris. So Chris should be grateful for Victor’s sacrifice of eating toasts rather than something salty and heavy, like the scrambled eggs with beacon that had been looking at him suggestively in the buffet.

“It’s so annoying.” Mila complained.

Victor’s smile was dripping with saccharine.

“That’s why when you get your vodka you should stick with one type for a night rather than getting four different bottles.”

“Vodka is vodka.” Mila said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

“And we made the principle mistake of starting drinking with champagne.”

Chris snorted.

“We always do. It’s the burden of drinking at competitions and weddings.” He said.

Victor shrugged. He ate his toast and decided he wasn’t done with tormenting Chris so he brought himself two more when Mila was inspecting the eggs table.

Victor was biting into his third that morning toast when his good mood evaporated at the sound of Yakov behind his back.

“Vitya! What did I tell you about your acceptable breakfast choices?”

Victor shoved the entire toast into his mouth and almost chocked on it. Then he turned to Yakov and, with his mouth still full of toast he smiled apologetically, although he didn’t feel sorry at all. When he turned back to his plate Mila must have taken advantage of that and stolen his last toast. Damn teenagers! Victor took out his phone and Yuuri smiled at him from the screen. He smiled back and for the first time that morning it wasn’t full of fake sweetness and malice. He wondered if Yuuri also didn’t like his toasts too crispy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ok, fine, I could paste here the entire song but the three lines are the essence for this chapter)
> 
> The longest chapter deserves the shortest notes but wait, it's 10th already? How could this happen? I genuinely have no idea, this is the longest and most consistent work of fiction I've ever written AND posted *opens an imaginary bottle of champagne* and I have to admit I'm kind of proud of myself at that point (that is as long as I won't finally find the time to correct the old typos and catch editing depression D:) That being said, huuuuuge thanks to all of you who are still with me in this little swamp of a fanfic, as well as to potential future readers if anyone ever strays here. Every comment and kudos is incredibly motivating, you're wonderful ♥
> 
> Next chapter's slightly shorter, slightly weirder and I've got no idea how to title it sooo... Увидимся на следующей неделе! as Victor would say ;>


	11. Colder

_15th of December, Detroit_

Phichit flew back on Tuesday morning without a medal but with his trademark wide grin and a suitcase packed with sweets and hamster goodies (seriously?) Even though he hadn’t got onto the podium Yuuri had a feeling something had changed in Phichit’s way of being and he was looking at him with a new, suspicious shine in his eyes. Shine that Yuuri planned to supress soon giving Phichit a lecture about his privacy online, which concept only grew stronger after the Sunday café incident. Yuuri didn’t want to repeat himself so he dragged Angela to their bedroom, closed the door and set the hamsters free – the best reassurance that Phichit wouldn’t run away if the talk was to become uncomfortable. And it most definitely would.

“So…” Yuuri started.

“We are gathered here today…” Phichit cut in and Yuuri gave him a death carrying glance from the opposite bed.

“Is somebody getting married?” Angela asked, visibly fighting with a smile trying to bloom on her face. If Phichit had already told her Yuuri was going to get creative while killing him. Do death.

“Not yet but soon!” Phichit announced.

“That’s not what I was going to talk about!” Yuuri huffed. “Not the first thing, anyway. And not _married_!”

“So maybe we can switch the topics and you can finally announce the date of your wedding… I mean engagement party.” Angela grinned.

“Peach!” Yuuri wasn’t really capable of screaming but was more than capable of making angry noises. “Whom else did you tell? I swear…”

“What are you talking about, Yuuri? _I_ didn’t tell _anybody_.” Phichit defended himself.

“Then how do you know?” Yuuri looked at Angela, confused. “Except Phichit I didn’t tell anybody neither.”

Phichit also looked at Angela curiously and Angela looked at them with pity.

“Because it’s pretty obvious?” Angela said. “You act like nothing happened and so does Esca.”

“And what does Esca have to that?” Yuuri growled. “At least, surprisingly, she’s more subtle than the two of you combined so leave her alone.”

“Oh you don’t have to be so protective of her.” Angela tried to speak in annoyed tone but her face was giving away that she was having time of her life. “And she’s _my_ sister, I have the right to know right away!”

And so it was Phichit’s turn to get confused.

“You’ve got the right to know right away about Yuuri and Victor because Esca’s you sister? Are you ok, Ang?”

“About _what_?” Yuuri was convinced that she’d choke if she was drinking at that moment.

“About Yuuri and Victor.” Phichit repeated.

“Peach!”

“What? That’s what we’re here for, right?”

“What _Victor_?” Angela asked and all the excitement evaporated from her. “Who the hell is Victor?”

“Victor fucking Nikiforov, aka Yuuri’s fucking future husband.”

The bedroom went quiet for a while. Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to that and Angela was seemingly processing the information before she blew out.

“Yuu-RI! What do you mean your future _husband_? I bent over backwards and resigned from sleeping for a week to finally hook you up with my stupid sister and you come back from Russia with a boyfriend instead? What the honest FUCK!?”

“I…” Yuuri tried to say something.

“Oh nooo.” Phichit said. “Why didn’t I record that. It would be perfect to play at the wedding.”

Angela laughed hysterically and Yuuri hid behind a pillow. Phichit’s serious privacy talk has been delayed one more time.

* * *

_17th of December, Petersburg_

“…and I didn’t expect that but I couldn’t tell her I don’t like it and then I told her all about last year and she said it’s ok and I should come again and we have next appointment tomorrow. But after…” Victor was babbling lightly all about his first psychologist appointment bustling around the kitchen. From the laptop set on the kitchen counter Chris was looking around him with his snow white kitty in his arms and a smirk on face. Victor was pretending he didn’t see the smirk ostensibly looking through cupboards so that he could avoid looking at his friend, even on the screen. He’d called to report he’d made the appointment and planned to end the call right after, but something had broken in him at the sight of Chris’ relieved face and so over an hour passed. Chris didn’t interrupted him the entire time, not even once.

* * *

_18th of December, Detroit_

The light twilight slowly turned into the night while Yuuri was waiting for Ketty to leave the lecture hall. The huge building was empty and, for Yuuri, unfamiliar, with its half glass ceilings, open staircases and plenty of space to hang around the halls. Completely unlike in the dance studios complex, where all the space was added up to the dance rooms and in between they had to sneak through narrow, windowless and except for other students empty corridors. Yuuri was fighting with the urge to get something from the nearby vending machines and the noises his stomach kept making were enthusiastically seconding the idea but got voted down by the fact they were going for a dinner when Ketty ended her exam. Every time the lecture hall door opened Yuuri was rising his head hopefully but it still wasn’t his friend.

Another argument for withdrawing from giving in to the momentary temptation of the vending machine goodies was the site with job offers he was scrolling through while waiting. Let’s be honest, no matter the outcome and Angela’s magical skills the trip to Russia was still a serious tearing in his budget and the Christmas season was abounding in last minute job offers from stores which, like every other year, were surprised by the amount of customers, delivery services and dress up sidelines incorporating trashy costumes and tones of glitter. And Yuuri, if it was up to him, after the months of showing off would prefer a peaceful job at the sink which was always reminding of home and childhood duties. Instead it also didn’t pay as much as he’d like.

He was looking at an announcement from a club that was seeking for a replacement for a member of dancing stuff and offering a decent amount of money for the New Year’s Eve and that was something, when he felt a tap on his head. Ketty was standing in front of him with a weak smile on her sleep deprived face and Yuuri thought he must have looked exactly the same if not worse. No one sane would hire him to dance at a New Year’s Eve party. Yuuri smiled back. They left the campus and went to celebrate the end of the finals with the onion rings that he’d been still carving.

Yuuri leaned his back on the wall and stretched legs on the bed, content licking his lips still tasting with deep fried food and exchanging pictures and texts with Victor, when his phone rung, displaying Angela’s name. God, why? Angela was never calling to ask how he was so sure it was another portion of trouble.

“Hello?”

“Yuu-ri, are you stupid or what?!” Yuuri had zero power for that.

“If that’s another call out for Esca…”

“Forget Esca.” Angela puffed, her accent thicker on the phone than usually. “I was talking to Ketty.”

_And?_ Yuuri thought. Had Angela joined the Let’s Scream at Yuuri for Eating Garbage Dancing Ladies Club and called to complete her first mission?

“If you don’t apply for the New Year’s job I’m gonna send Peach all of my private footage from your training so he can upload it to your fan club forum he’d been so nice to create.” Angela said.

Yuuri felt weak and little and looked at Phichit who was sitting on the other bed suspecting nothing.

“What footage? You have no footage!” Yuuri said.

“You’re so naive, Yuu-ri.” Angela said. “I’ll send you a sample when we’re done talking and after that you better start updating your CV.”

“I… What? Ang, I’m so worn out they won’t hire me in million _years_!” Yuuri protested.

“Who knows. Just do me the favour and send them your papers and in exchange I’ll do you the favour of not sharing my secret materials with Peach.” Yuuri could swear there was a malicious smile on her lips. “Oh, and one more thing. I was going to make it a proposition, but since you’re already blackmailed I think you’d agree…”

“Ang, I swear...” Yuuri started.

“You know I’m leaving the day after tomorrow to Italy, right?”

“And what it has to do with me?”

“Well…”

* * *

_21st of December, Petersburg_

On Monday evening Victor received his actual, self-ordered prise for his win at GPF.

He was going to eat in bed, chat with Yuuri alongside with posting on his fan forum, which has been giving Victor a weird feeling of being The Praised Chosen One in a way that no skating win had made him feel, when somebody knocked on his door and Lena, the younger of his neighbours, handed him a long tube package. Acting very awkward and probably slightly rude, Victor thanked her and run with the tube to his bedroom.

Forgetting about the food on his nightstand Victor hurried to open the package and unfolded a wide sheet of shiny paper. It was spreading a smell similar to the Eros CD but fresh and much stronger. Tens times bigger Yuuri was looking at him from the paper, stretched on the pole beautifully like always. Victor smiled happily to the poster and dragged out a frame he had prepared for his new sacred token. First of his planned collection.

* * *

_22nd of December, Detroit_

Yuuri thought it was going to be ok. He knew what he was doing, he mostly knew the people attending the advanced classes anyway and they even seemed to be willing to listen to his instructions and joking he could took over Angela’s position for good. The advanced class, which he’d been the most afraid of, went smoothly. Unlike the basic one. What Yuuri had been told was that he was going to replace Angela as the instructor for the three weeks she’d be away instead of cancelling the classes and, which Yuuri was grateful for, he’d earn some money. What he’d not been informed about was that the fitness club tagged him as the new instructor on their web and all social media and so the club was flooded with people who came specifically and only for his classes. Well played in the holiday season, when most of people put their memberships on hiatus. Even Yuuri’s dad would approve the marketing strategy. Only everybody had somehow forgotten to ask Yuuri for his opinion about using his image and making him a local attraction. Lovely.

* * *

_25th of December, Yekaterinburg _

Victor shut the door behind himself and threw another gold medal to his suitcase. He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly. More than ever. More than after Moscow and definitely more than when Yuuri had left. Because at that moments at least he hadn’t felt like everybody had hated him but that… That was just too much. Yakov had been growling, Lilia trying to quiet him rather unsuccessfully and Yura… Yura had been so resigned. The week after Barcelona he’d been working so hard. Trying so much. He’d swallowed his pride and listened to Victor’s every word while Victor had been spending the minimum amount of time on the ice and maximum in the gym, trying to get rid of the annoying boxes in front of his door every morning. Yakov was a deliberate fucker and having tens to choose from he’d ordered the boxes from a disgustingly boring company, as if it’d been a kind of punishment, damn it.

So when he’d won the nationals not just barely but leaving no margin to wonder that maybe with a different board of judges others would have a chance… No, Victor had left everybody far behind him with his score, maybe not record breaking but still stable. Oh irony. Couldn’t he lose just once, for a difference? Couldn’t somebody come and kick his ass on the ice? Was he asking for too much? And was it his fault that he’d been keeping his place in rankings for years, so that everything seemed settled from the very beginning once his name appeared in the line up? He knew it wasn’t and he knew it was only Yura’s first year and that was to be expected and yet… Yet it felt as if he did something terribly wrong again and disappointed everybody in another, tricky way.

A knock on his door.

Who could that be if Chirs wasn’t there for Russians, Yakov couldn’t have proved his point that Victor slacking was a piece of trash on ice, Yura hating him, Mila cheering for her won, Georgi…

Georgi!

Victor stood up and looked at the hotel door. He didn’t want to look anyone in the eyes but that… That was their tradition. And the timing was perfect that year. Victor opened the door and, indeed, it was Popo standing in the hall with a bag in one hand and a finger pressed to his mouth in the sign of silence. Victor let him in and, making sure no one had seen them, closed the door. The meeting was a top secret.

They couldn’t each other sober so they had to drunk, Victor thought, emptying another glass with one smooth gulp. He wasn’t that forgetful, he had his own birthday bottle in his suitcase and one extra just in case, which came particularly handy in given conditions, because it still wasn’t midnight and they couldn’t open the second official bottle before it was Georgi’s birthday, damn it. And besides, Popo came with food and soda so Victor, unfortunately, couldn’t black out just like that, having the alco slowed down and thinned in his gut.

Yuuri sent him a selfie with the three hamsters on his shoulders in tiny Christmas sweaters (lol, drunk Victor though, tiny sweaters!) and a picture of his bed with a bottle of wine and a packed KFC bucket. Fried chicken!

“Who’s that?” Georgi looked at Yuuri and frowned. “Don’t know him.”

Victor remembered last time he’d been drunk and showing Yuuri off and smiled.

“My future husband.” He said, pride visible on his face.

“Oh.” Was all Georgi could say.

**Victor:** Give some chicken

**Victor:** I need fried chicken

**Yuuri:** Can’t

**Yuuri:** I’ll eat more thinking of you :D <3

**Victor:** But Yuuu

**Victor:** riiiii

**Victor:** I’m hungery

**Victor:** straving

**Victor:** hugry starving and drunk

**Victor:** hungry starving anf driunk and in love

**Victor:** U

**Victor:** Yuuuuu

**Victor:** Riiiiii

**Victor:** Have some mercy

**Yuuri:** I can’t trust your drunk ass with my chicken

**Victor:** But

**Victor:** yuuuu

**Victor:** riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

**Victor:** pls

**Victor:** I won

**Victor:** and it’s my birthday

**Yuuri:** What?

**Yuuri:** It’s your birthday?

**Victor:** Yssss!

**Yuuri:** You didn’t tell me

**Yuuri:** :<

**Yuuri:** ;<

**Victor:** U did too

**Victor:** give me the chich

**Victor:** pls

**Victor:** *sends a selfie with Georgi*

**Victor:** pllllsssss

**Yuuri:** Victor you’re really drunk

**Yuuri:** omg

**Yuuri:** Are you getting drunk in bed

**Victor: **Look whs talking

**Victor:** ys with friend

**Victor:** it’s hs birthday too!

**Victor:** send so us the chick

**Victor:** or nudes

**Victor:** I prefer nudes tbh

**Yuuri:** O M G

Yuuri was typing for a while and then the dots disappeared.

“He ignored you.” Georgi declared, looking at the phone next to Victor. “It’s always the same.”

“He wouldn’t do that!” Victor protested.

“But it’s long.”

**Yuuri: **Hey Victor, it’s Yuuri’s friend ;D

**Yuuri: **I don’t have much time cause I’ve stolen Yuuri’s phone and I’m running through the building

**Yuuri: **But since it’s your birthday I have a gift for you ;)

**Victor: **Fried check

**Victor:** ???

**Victor:** Nudes?

**Victor:** What gift?

**Yuuri:** *sends a video*

**Yuuri:** I highly recommend you downloading it asap before Yuuri catches me and deletes it from your chat ;)

**Yuuri:** Wow I found an unlocked room you’ve got a while

**Yuuri:** lol you don’t sb’s sleeping here

**Victor:** Holly shir

**Victor:** tx yuri friend I hav it

**Victor:** I owe yu

Victor lied back on the headboard and Georgi leaned his head on his shoulder.

“What did you get?” He asked.

“A present.” Victor smiled. “I have to see.”

“Can I see too?” Georgi asked seriously.

“Yeah, why not.”

Victor downloaded the video, started it and his mouth dropped. It was Yuuri dancing the Eros routine but he was in a studio with more poles and a mirrored wall. The camera was angled so that Victor could see both the dancer and his reflection in the mirror behind him. He was alone in the studio and there was no music playing but it didn’t matter. Victor would risk saying that it was even better than on the official clip. Yuuri wasn’t wearing the sexy outfit and didn’t have the cap to swing around but also there were no other people around and no fragments with the singer were cutting in. Yuuri’s face was also different, somewhere in the middle between the awkward shy and raw sexy. Victor had never seen that face before but he’d die for looking at it every day, for touching…

“Wow.” Georgi’s low voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Is that the guy Mila and Yura have been screaming about?” Victor didn’t answer and Georgi leaned back to look at him from a distance. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.”

“How can you tell?” Victor asked, turning on the video for the second time.

“I’d have to be blind not to.” Georgi shrugged.

Victor looked at him. The room was dark expect for the screen glowing and streetlights shining through the windows. Georgi’s eyes were reflecting the glow with honesty, which was only strengthened by the mess of his hair that without gel was falling right into his eyes. Victor wanted to say something, clarify himself and his weird behaviour but he couldn’t. There were no words he could use to justify... Whatever he wanted to justify. Was it taking the gold yet again or was it switching roles? Normally it would be Georgi crying about another break up and Victor would be the really shitty comforter or they’d just get drunk in a bed and talk about anything but skating or laugh at their shared horoscopes. If Victor recalled correctly one year they’d even done a movie marathon and Yakov almost uncovered the secret meeting. And how had it started in the first place that the birthday celebrations must have been secret? How did he end up there, _they_ ended up there, painfully close to their thirties and feeling terribly shitty, which made no sense considering he just won a competition, had a friend in his room and a perspective of a relationship with a man he loved short but deeply.

“Victor?” Georgi asked. “Are you ok?”

Victor opened his mouth wider and slowly tilted left onto the bed.

“I don’t know what to do.” He moaned, looking at Georgi with wide eyes.

“Ah?”

“What if I do something wrong and lose my Yuuri forever? That would be a _disaster_!”

Georgi blinked, confused.

“I’m not sure if I’m the best person to give advice on that particular matter.” He said, which sounded weirdly sober considering they’d both drunk a bottle of vodka each.

“But you’ve got so much more experience with relationshiiiips!” Victor turned on his back and stared into the ceiling. “I don’t know who else could help me.”

“Well…”

“Yessss?” Victor asked with hope.

“If I were you I’d go after him, but that’s…”

“…a brilliant idea!”

“Victor, no. It’s midseason.” Georgi said. “And you’d seem desperate. Do you wanna seem desperate?”

Victor frowned, considering that.

“I _am_ desperate.”

Georgi took a deep breath and looked aside before he continued.

“And you’ve got no reason to haunt him after, ehhhh, how…”

“You’re wrong!” Victor sat up with triumph. “I’ve got a reason! I’ve got all the reasons!” And he took his phone, ignored for a while a few new, freaking out messages form Yuuri and scrolled till the beginning of their chat to show Georgi that it wasn’t even his idea. Georgi came out to be very patient about listening to Victor babbling and, which pleased Victor, not making all the meaningful jokes that Chris couldn’t withdraw from.

Alarm on Georgi’s phone interrupted Victor’s joyful interpretation of whatever his up-to-date interactions with Yuuri were. Georgi leaned to the floor and rose the third bottle of vodka. Whatever Victor had told Mila a few days earlier all of their three bottles were different.

“Happy birthday to us for the last time.” Georgi declared and opened the last bottle.

“Last time only for this year.” Victor added, rising his finger up and dropping back onto the bed.

* * *

_26th of December, Detroit_

“Oh my God Peach!”

“Yep?”

“You gotta teach me how to skate!”

“And what, after three years of my unfortunate persuasions, made you decide that it’s the right moment?”

“Victor’s coming to visit and he wants to take me to an ice rink!”

Phichit looked at him as if Yuuri said an utter nonsense. As if he was a hallucination. As if he wanted to say _Victor WHAT!?_

“And what that has to do with me?”

“That I can’t make a fool out of myself in front of him. I’d die out of embarrassment.”

“I bet you will.”

“I will? Peach!”

“Yep, you will, cause my offer to teach you expired eons ego.”

“Peach!”

“Well ok, it’s expired last… I mean, a while ago.” Phichit grinned at him with a tricky glimmer in his eyes.

“That’s not fair… You should do at least that to compensate me for sending Victor the video!” Yuuri moaned.

Phichit narrowed his eyes.

“Nope.” He said. “I should _not_ do that to make Victor’s birthday present complete. I couldn’t steal the opportunity from him.” Phichit said, not looking at Yuuri but at the new hamster he’d gotten himself for Christmas in his hand. “Right, Yuutor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I'm a huge supporter of the idea of Victor and Popo being secret buddies (or so they believe ;)) with some communication difficulties.
> 
> There are dialogues in this and the previous chapter that are actually drunk dialogues but I decided not to "drunk" them unless they're said in English and most of them is actually in Russian. I feel like "drunkening" in English what was originally said in Russian would be rather awkward in therms of the cultural context (e.g. imagine a book in which the characters speak each their regional dialect of Japanese and then sb translates it to English and uses different States' colloquial slang in place of the dialects ^^") Just so you know, Victor and Popo weren't actually that coherent while talking, they were more like Victor in his messages to Yuuri.
> 
> Today's title is borrowed from [_Colder_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJNhQC-15IM) by Brainstorm. If you've heard the song and been paying attention while reading the chapter you know why ;D I also like the idea that Victor might have actually known the song cause it's from Eastern Europe and was released when Victor was a teenager I think.
> 
> I leave a call out for any feedback (even not so positive feedback may be super helpful!) and see you in the next chapter in a week or two ;>


	12. Flashdance

_29th of December, Petersburg_

Victor tried not to overanalyse what he was doing. He’d called his therapist, for some reason thinking it’d been important, to ask for her opinion on his spontaneous trip and, after a few trials of persuading him to stay and digging out all the details about Yuuri, whom existence Victor had been so carefully trying to hide during the first two sessions, she’d agreed it hadn’t been that bad idea for him to take a break. He hadn’t told Chris a word about his plan, booked a ridiculously expensive flight to Detroit, begged his neighbours to take care of Makka (who at that point started liking the old lady as much as she liked Victor) and provide him with the daily dose of her photos, took only the most basic things (which filled two suitcases and a double carry on) and called Yuuri to announce his visit.

There was no point other than Makka for him to stay in Petersburg. After nationals he had a short break to use and, theoretically, he could even come back before anyone would notice. Only he didn’t want to come back too quickly and hadn’t booked a return flight in hope that maybe he could hide in Yuuri’s bedroom forever. Besides, what was the point of coming back for trainings if lack of them didn’t change much? Victor had googled full size rink in Detroit and packed his skates so he could train there as well if necessary, forget Yakov. Or could not train at all, for that there wasn’t anybody to threat his position, neither at Europeans, nor World’s, he didn’t think so.

There were exactly five people who knew Victor was leaving – his two neighbours, his therapist, who'd kindly agreed for a few sessions through Skype, Georgi, who’d driven him to the airport while trying to convince him to stay, and obviously Yuuri. Victor couldn’t have told Chris, more than sure what his reaction would be, and decided to tell Yura he was hangover on New Year (fake but ok) as an excuse for cancelling the movie night, just in case he came back from Moscow early. Everything covered, wasn’t it?

* * *

_30th of December, Detroit_

Yuuri had been waiting at the airport way too long. He knew he came too early, but wanted to make sure he’d find a place to park the car and be there before the time in case Victor’s plane landed earlier. Instead, it was delayed. The additional twenty minutes felt like eternity and the closer it was to their reunion the more Yuuri was realising how much he’d been missing Victor. Before, he could have excused himself with exams, working and practice, but then it was going to happen for real, he was going to see Victor again so shortly after their separation, while Yuuri had expected to see him again after months, if ever.

Suddenly, the impatience he’d felt waiting for Ketty only a week ago seemed like nothing, like a tiny, dim feeling that could have been disturbed by such insignificant things like hunger and searching for a job. But at the airport there were only the two of them – Yuuri and the one-way arrivals hall automatic door that were opening every second while and it still hadn’t been Victor. Yuuri was sure that if his sight alone had any power, the intensity of it would have melted the door long ago. And then, when the door opened for too many-th time for him to count, Yuuri saw Victor at the end of the hall behind them and got up, only to let the door close and hide Victor behind them. The door opened again and Victor noticed Yuuri and started running, made it before the door could separate them for the last time and next thing Yuuri knew was that he was tightly hugged by Victor, who was pressing his face to his neck and Yuuri was the happiest person alive, happiest that ever existed.

Yuuri lead Victor, who claimed he couldn’t have found a hotel room in the middle of the holiday season, to their dorm room. Phichit was supposed not to be there but, obviously, he couldn’t refuse himself seeing Victor moving in for the couple of nights. Yuuri wanted do evaporate when he realised he’d never mentioned to Victor they were sharing one bedroom and Victor's face was a clear sign he was more than slightly surprised. He was staring at Phichit like smitten.

“What are you doing here, Peach?” Yuuri asked.

Phichit beamed.

“Waiting for you so I can give your boyfriend a proper shovel talk.”

“Peach!”

* * *

Victor almost lost it when he saw Phichit Chulanont sitting on a bed in Yuuri’s bedroom and grinning at them as if it was nothing. As if he hadn’t chattered with him at the banquet taking fifteen full minutes to take a selfie he’d never posted, then stealing Chris and leaving him alone with the boring Canadian _again_. As if he hadn’t been winding up Victor’s obsession showing him every scrap of Yuuri the Internet had to offer and listening to Victor’s drunken ode to Yuuri that he’d (holly shit!) recorded. As if he wasn’t a serious treat for his and Yuuri’s relationship. Phichit looked at him knowingly, the same way he had in Barcelona and Victor realised Phichit had known then as much as he knew now.

“So, Yuuri…” Phichit said, rising from the bed and hooking on Victor’s elbow. “…you’ll have to excuse us for a minute.”

Victor hoped that Yuuri would protest but instead he only said a resigned “Fine, but don’t scare him off.” And passed them, putting Victor’s suitcases by the window.

Phichit led him to an empty shared kitchen and closed the door behind them.

“How long are you going to pretend you’re some third rate skating instructor?” He asked. Any other introduction wasn’t needed. They both knew _exactly_ in what deep shit Victor was.

Victor hesitated.

“For a while longer. If that’s ok?”

“I’m not giving you away. Not now. But be warned that in this building alone live at least three of my rink mates that would recognise you in a glimpse and probably some other people who would have no problem with that. So I would be careful if I were you.”

“Thanks.” Victor said.

Phichit snorted and even to Victor, who hardly knew him, it was something that didn’t necessarily fit him.

“Don’t think I do it for you. The only reason I didn’t tell Yuuri who you are the moment he showed me your photo is that I know it’d hurt him. So you’ve got a credit of time to get your shit together and tell him yourself, just know that my patience has limits.” There was no joking in Phichit eyes. “And besides, you owe me a new hamster.”

Victor eagerly nodded and, trying not to think about how he was going to tell Yuuri, he focused on where he could get the best hamster the city had to offer.

After scaring shit out of Victor Fruit Boy went out and announced he’d be back later in the evening, leaving Victor alone with Yuuri in the small bedroom. That was when Victor realised he had no plan what to do next. Absolutely no idea. Seeing Yuuri, touching Yuuri, smelling Yuuri and being close to Yuuri had been accomplished and made his heart in peace, but Victor at his anxiety and depression driven state wasn’t good at long run planning and focused on surviving the following days, what was next the time would show. And so he ended with the love of his life in his shared bedroom, Fruit Boy’s hamsters making noise in the background and Victor’s luggage taking most of the space, and had no idea what to say, what to do next and how not to come out an incredibly boring and awkward person. To complete the image of a man as far from being put together as possible, Victor’s empty stomach made a noise that was especially loud in the small room.

“Oh, right.” Yuuri said. “Do you mind just ordering something? I don’t wanna risk going out for dinner, not today.”

“Risk?” Did Yuuri suspect something?

“Yeah. I’ve got a reputation after the CD release and it still didn’t calm down. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable if someone was to interrupt us.” Yuuri shrugged.

Victor Nikiforov defence system mode: off.

Victor Nikiforov melting with adoration environmental response: on.

Yuuri was the cutest thing. Ever!

“Of course!” Victor said. “Any recommendations?”

Yuuri blushed.

“I’d opt for something healthy. I’ve got so much on it doesn’t really matter but if I eat trash before the performance I won’t have the energy…”

“Great.” Victor tried to hide his relief that they weren’t going to eat pizza the whole evening. “I’m on diet.” Seeing Yuuri’s sceptical look he added. “Kind of.”

Yuuri stabbed Victor’s ribs.

“Do you want to disappear?”

“I… What?”

“You are going to get skinny if you’re on diet.” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Ah, this. Nooo, I have to get on a little bit of muscles as well, so, you know…” Victor waved his hands and smiled. Awkwardly. Suuuper awkwardly, good job, Vitya!

Yuuri shrugged again, sat on his bed and tapped a place next to himself.

“Fine.” He said. “Let’s look for something light and packed with protein then.”

Victor took out his last but one layer of Kashmir sweater and sat next to Yuuri in just thin T-shirt. Yuuri turned on the laptop on his knees and Victor wrapped one of his arms around Yuuri’s waist, for a try. He seemed to hold his breath for a moment but then relaxed. Victor hummed happily and leaned his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. It was perfect.

* * *

Yuuri was trying not to panic, or overreact, or act like an idiot, he really was, but had no idea if the outcome was anywhere near to what it was supposed to be. The situation was hundreds of thousands times more unrealistic then back in Petersburg, where with some effort Yuuri could have blended in. But nothing like that in Detroit was possible. Victor didn’t match Yuuri’s world and it showed, it showed so much! He seemed weirdly big in their small bedroom, no matter that there were people much taller than Victor living in the building, and spreading aura of fineness and elegance that didn’t meet anything about the dorm building and probably the entire campus. No one would be fooled that Victor had been a student, unless maybe studying fashion and being a part time model, but it still seemed extremely made up.

Victor’s suitcases took most of their free space making it almost impossible to move and Yuuri was convinced he would have to stretch in the common area or on the hall. Though it was totally worth having Victor nearby. But his whole person was screaming _dissonance_ when he was sitting on Yuuri’s bed legs straight and hugging him from the side which at first made Yuuri internally die but he surprisingly quickly gave in to the touch and hoped to keep Victor wrapped around him forever. And that was the problem. There weren’t really any actual reasons for Yuuri to be so attracted to the man, not so emotionally, but whenever they were close Victor seemed to grew stronger into him and Yuuri didn’t want to let him go.

They ordered veggie soup and salads that weren’t the most affordable option but Yuuri wanted to offer to Victor something decent. Waiting for the food Yuuri quickly showed him around, the entire floor being much less than Victor’s stylish apartment, and they came back to the room to go through the latest photos of Makkachin together, each making Yuuri smile like a stupid. The food came and they settled on Yuuri bed, puffing at the hot soup and discussing Yuuri’s carrier that Victor seemed to be much more interested in than it was worth it. Yuuri purposefully tried to avoid the topic of skating. He never even had skates on his legs and if Victor was a choreographer working with people qualifying to international competitions, his skills must have been more than decent, while Yuuri would probably be the most ungraceful person on the entire rink.

Yuuri enjoyed watching leaves of spinach and rocket slowly disappearing in Victor’s mouth, followed my his tongue licking the vinegar from his lips, and wondering if the tongue was as warm and nice as he remembered. No matter how out of place Victor looked in Yuuri’s bedroom, he seemed to enjoy himself a lot, the genuine smile spread on his face and reaching his eyes, making them wrinkle a little bit more, just the way Yuuri adored, and his voice was going up and Victor sounded like a happy child more than a grown up man.

The last leaf of greens disappeared in Victor’s mouth followed be the pink, catlike tongue and Yuuri couldn’t hold it anymore. He leaned and kissed the vinegar mouth just in time to catch the pink tip. Victor didn’t protest. Instead, he moved closer, sat on Yuuri’s lap and slipped his arms under Yuuri’s, as if he tried to appear smaller than he actually was. Yuuri parted their lips for a while to take a breath but Victor didn’t let him for long, as if he was even more desperate for the simple intimacy than Yuuri was, and slipped into in his mouth. Yuuri couldn’t contain his moan because, fuck, kissing in the mess of his little bedroom was yet another _different_. Different that was hitting right under his stomach and that should have concerned Yuuri, but it didn’t. Not even the suddenly louder squeaks of hamsters could make him want to withdraw and although somehow he knew he wasn’t going to go any further in that moment, he would at Victor’s slightest suggestion. But Victor finally parted their lips, and then eyes, and rested his chick on the top of Yuuri’s head. Leaving Yuuri a little bit confused but also happy. Just it. Happy. Well, and maybe also a little bit loved, even if…

He was caged between the wall and Victor’s body wrapped around him like a sinking man around a breakwater when a metallic sound announced Phichit coming. Yuuri tried to move under Victor but apparently it was much harder to move a person sitting on his lap than a dance partner in a studied moves, and Victor seemed not to hear anything at all, so Phichit came to them wrapped around each other next to empty take away boxes. He looked at them, deciding whether they deserved a mean comment, but since they were just sitting and hugging he withdrew.

“Hello, sweethearts!” Phichit screamed, carrying two pizza boxes that made Yuuri internally scream because they’d just spent way too much money on _salads_! “Papa Peach came to rock your party.” He closed the door and set the hamsters free.

Victor still didn’t seem to unwrap Yuuri, resting on his head and, what Yuuri could only assume, observing Phichit from that position.

“You mean to shut it.” Yuuri said and gently led Victor out of his lap.

“I don’t think so.” Phichit beamed. “I was with Ethan in his room the entire time and didn’t hear much noise.” Phichit blinked.

Ethan’s room was right behind the wall Yuuri’s bed was by.

“PEACH!”

“What?”

“Hamster pie!” Yuuri felt his nostril move with the pretended fury of the betrayal.

“Nooo!” Phichit responded but that also didn’t sound like a serious lament.

Victor giggled behind Yuuri’s back.

“What, like it’s funny?” Yuuri gave him a look, but smiled.

“Kind of.” Victor admitted. “You remind me of my ri… Never mind. You’ve never met her.”

* * *

Victor bit his tongue in the very last moment. Yuuri looked as if he wanted to ask for explanation but Fruit Boy cut in.

“Alright-alright. Let’s do something fun.” Phichit leaned to Victor and smiled maliciously. “Do you know _The King and The Skater_?” He asked.

“I know… What?” Victor could swear he’d heard the name somewhere but he couldn’t connect where exactly.

“Well then, if you want my ultimate blessing to claim Yuuri’s ass…”

“PEACH I WARN YOU!”

“…you have to catch up on it.”

_The King and The Skater_ came out to be a movie. Musical, to be precise. Two parts. The first ridiculous and the second mimicking the first in most of the jokes. Even if Victor wasn’t sure if they were supposed to be jokes. It was, indeed, about figure skating, and Victor planned to torment Yura with it once he was back home. It was definitely the type of content Yura secretly enjoyed but would sell his soul to appear a hater. They were halfway through the first movie when Victor realised where he’d heard the name. The highlight routine started and the tunes of the song from Phichit’s short program played. Victor’s face dropped in recognition.

“It’s from your short!” He spitted out and it was too late. Yuuri looked at him surprised and on Fruit Boy’s face amusement was mixing with disbelief. Victor fucked it up. He was dead, doomed, fuc…

“Have you seen that?” Phichit asked glaring at Victor meaningfully.

Victor’s throat was so dry.

“Y-yeah. Of course. All of the opponents.”

Phichit frowned and dropped his mouth open.

“It’s important while choreographing a winning program.” Victor said and Phichit leaned back at the wall supressing giggles.

“Of course.” He said. “What is it, Yuuri?”

Yuuri was sitting between them with a flush of an inner battle all over his face.

“I knew it was gonna happen at some point, but I didn’t expect it that quickly.” Yuuri murmured.

“Happen what?” Victor asked, begging for his mind to stop the auto sabotage session.

“That you and Peach, you know, have much more in common than you and me.” Yuuri pressed knees to his torso.

Victor didn’t understand. Or he did but couldn’t explain anything without speaking up about himself. Of course they had more in common with Fruit Boy and that’s way Victor liked spending time with Yuuri so much more. He absolutely adored everything Yuuri did, everything he was into, everything he dreamed of and none of them being figure skating related. He adored that Yuuri wanted to listen to Victor babble about Makka and every other dog, show him cute animals from the internet and correct whatever Victor did wrong without hesitation. He was drunk with the lack of recognition in Yuuri’s eyes and yet the will to spend time with him. All that and so much more that Victor couldn’t think about at that moment because then and there was real, present Yuuri.

“The only thing we have in common is that we work on ice.” Victor said and let himself put a strand of Yuuri’s hair behind his ear.

“And I’ve never…” Yuuri started.

“Then you just have to go to the rink as you planned so you can teach Yuuri how to skate.” Phichit said, overly enthusiastic.

“I’m gonna be a huge disappointment.” Yuuri sighed.

A part of Victor, the competitive part that in Yuuri’s presence he managed to suppress, wanted him to show off, to make sure Yuuri saw he was no less on ice than Yuuri was on pole and the dancefloor. The inner, emotional and loving part wanted to throw his skates through the window, even knowing he’d regret it later. But Yuuri looked so resigned and again Victor’s defence systems failed to Yuuri’s sad eyes, widening the distance between common sense and Victor's actions.

“You won’t be, I promise!” Victor hugged him tightly, hoping his panicked eyes would pass unnoticed.

* * *

_31st of December, Detroit_

If there was one thing Yuuri knew wouldn’t end up well it was taking Victor to the club he was performing in for the New Year’s Eve. He’d been hired almost right away when he’d presented his CV and although at first it hadn’t been clear for him why, he quickly realised pole dancing was lying on his career like a stigma. The topic of the party was _Flashdance_ and while there wasn’t any pole dancing involved, which Yuuri would have nothing against actually, there was that one solo dance from the movie which was particularly sexual and involved very little clothing. It didn’t matter it was originally meant to be danced by a woman, the director of the night was thrilled with the perspective of Yuuri dancing it. And Yuuri had thought it wouldn’t be that bad, it was supposed to be for just one night and one only and other than that he would get dressed in actual clothes and teach the guests some dance moves, the second part actually appealing. Until Victor had announced he was coming and, instead of being unamused that Yuuri would be working at the time, he’d somehow fixed invitation to the club though Yuuri could swear they’d been sold out. And Phichit stuck to him right away, which ensured Yuuri he was doomed.

Leaving Victor alone with Phichit for the entire afternoon Yuuri felt a hint of trouble in the back of his head and prayed for Phichit to behave. He had to leave early, the club was all the way downtown and since he’d been hired extremely last minute he had to come before the performance for extra practice. Than he was supposed to help with setting tables for the evening, repeat his routine again and get dressed in his performance outfit, tough in Yuuri’s case it was not much more than underwear that he covered with a hoodie and sweatpants to keep warmth.

At some point people started coming in to the club and taking tables but Yuuri got no message from Victor and was curious to peek through the curtain and look at the audience but he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to dance until about two hours after the show started but he started getting nervous even though the idea of Victor at the audience felt calming. Exactly the opposite of what he’d expected.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri put on a mask, entered his role and came out on the scene. The applause was different than for the other dancers. There were noticeably less voices but the screams he could hear where higher and meaningful. Mostly female and loud enough to make it impossible to hear if one of them was Victor’s. And maybe it wasn’t the moment to consider that, Yuuri was supposed to dance his sexual performance, but the idea of Victor’s eyes slipping on his half naked, highlighted body felt delicious. So delicious Yuuri unconsciously licked his lips seconds before the music started and realised what he did only when a group of enthusiastic woman cheered from their table. But Yuuri wasn’t thinking about them, caring about no one on the audience but Victor who, Yuuri didn’t know that but he _felt_, was watching him. And no matter if it was an empty studio and a camera lance or the spotlight and a pair of blue-blue eyes hidden in a dark, fully crowded club, he didn’t care about anything else.

* * *

After the Barcelona roller-coaster of events Victor was smarter than getting drunk with Fruit Boy. And Fruit Boy seemed to see that because he started with a suggestion of aperitif before leaving the dorm and made sure to keep Victor’s glass full the entire evening. Victor drank only from time to time, wetting his lips and taking little sips. Some support was needed but he wasn’t going to miss the performance. His Yuuri’s performance.

The other dancers where… fine. Mostly woman, except for the pair dances and teachers that came to pick a few woman from the crowd after every performance. Victor refused two female dancers who proposed him a dance and so did Phichit, who was supposed to keep an eye on Victor. If only Yuuri knew how much Fruit Boy made stalking him his top priority. Taking the opportunity that Yuuri wasn’t nearby, Phichit asked Victor about some skating topics, which, to Victor’s surprise, weren’t about his career but some technical aspects, and so they spent the first two hours till the break on the scene discussing skating. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol he’d had, but Victor wasn’t even annoyed. Yuuri texted them right before the break, announcing he’d be performing next, and Victor felt a smile growing on his face, so rare lately. Phichit set on his camera and prepared phone.

“Isn’t it forbidden to record here?” Victor asked, though he knew the answer.

“Yeah, so sit quiet.” Phichit said. “It’s my… _our_ only chance.”

There were dongs announcing the end of the break, just like in theatres, and people started coming back to their tables. Victor’s was the emptiest of all of them, only he and Phichit there, and Phichit seemed to know better than asking Victor how he’d got that completely last minute. Suddenly the lights were off and they were sitting in a relative darkness. The few marauders who kept talking after the last three gongs must have felt intimidated and kept quiet. In the silence and darkness almost palatable, all eyes looked back at the stage, lit with a single headlight. And then Yuuri emerged from behind the curtain and Victor felt thirsty. _Thirsty_.

Yuuri was wearing a scrimpy dark outfit with transparent black thighs and a black, baseball inspired mask. The Eros costume seemed modest next to that, not to mention how outstanding Yuuri looked compared to every single dancer before him. The stage Yuuri licked his lips. Victor was convinced he whimpered and the love of his life didn’t even start dancing.

When Yuuri screamed something and started to move Victor wasn’t paying much attention to the choreography. He tried, really, because it was impressive when Yuuri was rising his legs from side to side in the air to eventually go down to the floor in full split. But he was too mesmerised by the muscles stretching under Yuuri’s skin, the face and eyes, as if Yuuri wasn’t performing in front of all the strangers but in the safe of his own bedroom, tempting a lover to join with sharp, desperate moves. Reflecting exactly what Victor was feeling. Ah! But Victor wouldn’t be able to skate like that in thousand years.

The dance was short, very short actually, and instead of satisfying his thirst it’d left Victor wanting more. More! More of the dance, more of Yuuri, more of the seductive eyes and the lights on his skin. Victor didn’t join the general applause, too petrified when Yuuri froze in his ending pose for a while, and then the lights turned off.

When the lights were lit in the entire club again a while later Victor saw Yuuri walking down the stage in skinny trousers and fitted shirt, followed by two young women. Victor didn’t rise from his chair when a woman from the area that Victor could swear was where the whistles had come from before asked him for a dance and Yuuri, unfortunately, couldn’t say no. Victor lured nearby, but she was changing with her friends and ten minutes later Yuuri was teaching them some basic moves when the lights were getting darker again and the girls, giggling, asked Yuuri to their table. Victor’s heart warmed at the sight of Yuuri looking around the club but then one of the girls offered him a chair that Yuuri couldn’t really refuse and, Victor wanted to scream, the girl sat on his lap. Didn’t that count as harassment?!

Another dancer came out on the stage but Victor didn’t care anymore. He leaned to Fruit Boy.

“Do you think there’s a chance someone could recognise me here?” He whispered to Phichit.

Phichit didn’t answer for a while.

“Is it really only now when you think about it?”

“No but…”

“I’ve got no idea.” Phichit admitted. “None of my rink mates could afford to come here and theoretically it’s forbidden to record and post but… I don’t know.”

“But we have to rescue him.” Victor moaned dramatically.

“We cannot rescue him, his at _work_ right now, don’t you remember? But as for people recognising you, I think you blend in here pretty well and we’re sitting aside so…”

* * *

The girl sat on his lap and Yuuri didn’t know what to do with his hands. That was his burden. If a man pushed one of the female dancers to sit on his lap it would be unacceptable but the other way around… Yuuri wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know where Victor was, or Phichit, and how to escape. If a guest liked to dance and chatter with him he was supposed to do so as long as for two in the morning, when the guests had to leave and Yuuri collect his stuff but… He hoped he’d pick Victor up in the crowd, even if for a while. Another performance started and the girl on his lap put her arm around Yuuri’s neck and pushed a glass into Yuuri’s hand. He didn’t even sip it until the dancing break started and the girls pulled him back to the dancefloor. Yuuri breathed, freed, trying to correct their moves, but they seemed to enjoy more doing it the wrong way. And before the lights were off again Yuuri was sitting by the same table, only a different chair and a different girl who… didn’t sit on his lap.

“Sorry for my sister.” She said, leaning over Yuuri apologetically and glancing at the girl who stuck to him before. “She had a little bit too much already and… You know.”

Yuuri knew. If it had been him it could have ended up much worse than just sitting on the lap of his chosen one. He was opening his mouth so assure the girl it was ok when someone grabbed his shoulder and Yuuri nearly jumped on the chair.

“Mr Katsuki?” Yuuri sighed with relief when he saw it was one of the security staff members.

“Yes?”

“I’ll have to excuse you for a while.” The man said.

Yuuri smiled to the girl apologetically and let the guard lead him to the back of the club.

“One of the guests requested to invite you to their table.” He said. “There are only two man by the table. The manager suggested you keep them company for a while, but if something was wrong let me know. I’ll be watching you the entire time.”

“Eh, ok.” Yuuri said, hoping his predictions would be true. And indeed, the guard led him to Victor’s table. Phichit was fighting a meaningful look that was about to bloom on his face while Victor was a brilliant actor, thanking the guard and, Yuuri could swear, pulling a bill into his hand and waving him off. They would have to talk about it later.

“You were amazing!” Victor beamed, braiding their fingers together under the table. “Even hotter than in the clip.”

Yuuri could feel the blush on his face deepen. He wanted Victor to think so but it was a completely different thing when he said it out loud and besides…

“We have to behave.” Yuuri said, his voice shushed.

“Have I ever not behaved?” Victor pouted and Yuuri could swear it was Phichit’s phone angling from under the table. “Peach! My employee shouldn’t get to know we know each other. So pretend you don’t know me.”

“Of course, sir!” Phichit beamed at him. And Victor. Maybe it was a trick of the light in Victor’s eyes, but Victor looked as if he was challenged, and accepted it.

“Ok then. You were absolutely fabulous on the scene tonight, Mr…?” Victor rested chin on his palm, visibly entertained.

“Yuuri.” Yuuri gulped and decided to follow the game. “Yuuri Katsuki.”

Phichit winked at him and left the table, leaving the two of them together, and Yuuri knew he was going to either thank him for that later, or kill him right after.

* * *

“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki” The delicious blush on Yuuri’s chicks deepened and Victor realised the night was going to be a slow torture. He wanted to kiss him. After all the hours of not kissing Yuuri Victor wanted to kiss him and he knew he wasn’t allowed to. Not there and not then, not if he didn’t want to get separated again or ruin Yuuri’s job. Phichit disappeared shortly after Yuuri joined them and didn’t come back until before midnight, giving Victor full three hours of the slow masochistic game, in which Victor was orbiting all over Yuuri, saying complements real yet somehow bolder than he’d dare if it wasn’t a play and stroking Yuuri’s skin only occasionally, aware of the gaze of the security guy on his back. And Yuri was a sadistic monster in all of that. Victor knew he could act but had no idea of the extend of Yuuri’s abilities to stay in role and keep his distance while flirting and seducing his pray. In any other conditions Victor would feel pity for both of them, the guest for his uncertainty if he could let himself for more and the need to pay for a companion and for the dancer for selling himself probably way too cheap in the flattering words and provocative licks and bits. It was a torture, the delicious one, making him forget everything about skating and focusing on how to touch Yuuri.

The end of the performances had been announced, all the dancers left the scene and the lights set up changed, staying dark over the tables and focusing on the dancefloor between them. It seemed that Yuuri didn’t need anything more and Victor could swear for a while he also had forgotten why he was there, because he was pulling Victor to the middle of the dancefloor with a wide, genuine smile. They were dancing, and dancing, and dancing, and eventually the crowd made place for them and Yuuri was doing things to him, dipping him, spinning together and laughing at each other’s faces and Victor was back in Petersburg in Lilia’s studio, where only he and Yuuri existed. The song ended and Victor leaned to kiss him and felt Yuuri’s hand on his chest before their lips met.

“Not here.” Yuuri whispered and Victor remember again where and why he was. It was unfair. So, so incredibly unfair. He _needed_ the kiss. There was applause from the crowd and Yuuri pulled him back to their table. Fruit Boy appeared right after and the midnight was approaching.

“You gave quite a performance.” Phichit said. “And the security guy keeps your back well, Yuuri.”

Yuuri shrugged. He was sitting hard on his chair and after a while Victor saw him look around. He showed a thumb to the security guy and the guy did the same.

“I think we’re covered.” Yuuri said and gulped some water. “After midnight I’m supposed to be there but I don’t really have to teach so I guess I can just stick to you.”

Victor didn’t wish for anything else.

* * *

Uber dropped them at the campus sometime between three and four in the morning. Yuuri didn’t even have to ask Phichit to go ahead, his friend almost run to the dorm, leaving him with Victor in the middle of an empty, snow covered street.

Yuuri didn’t let Victor say anything, just gripped his collar and pulled close to kiss him like he’d wanted the entire night, passionate, wet and messy. Victor sank into the kiss immediately and they were wrapped in each other so close that from a side they looked like one person, but that Yuuri was going to get to know a lot later. Right then there was only he and Victor and the world, indeed, finally collapsed, shrank just like he’d always expected, only it wasn’t in a faraway dance studio but on the familiar path between their dorm and Phichit’s ice rink. Kissing not a stranger he just met but Victor whom he lo… Longed for the entire month. And if that time the snow did start to snow, Yuuri would never know for that there was nothing that counted that wasn’t Victor’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t like reading kisses but the night was calling for a kiss ^^
> 
> Phichit, obviously, didn’t come back to the dorm but ran around a corner to take a picture lol
> 
> Huge thanks to [@shadesofscotia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofscotia) for making me realize through their comments that Phichit’s motivations weren’t that obvious for readers as they were for me and needed a clarification. Fortunately I knew early enough to just add a paragraph to the “shovel talk” and I’m glad I did ;>
> 
> The dance Yuuri performed is [_Manhunt_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6miwjtmjGQ) from _Flashdance _movie.


	13. Walking on thin ice

2nd_ of January, Detroit_

Warmth. Softness of unfamiliar textiles hugging his skin and delicate, crisp smell of detergent inexistent in Russia. Homey yet exotic. Subliminal awareness of the walls surrounding him closer than usually, creating a specific feeling of cosiness. Silent squeaking in the background complimented by muffled sounds of tenants behind walls thinner than back home. The sun shining through the window at different angle and from another latitude. The priceless feeling of beloved person leaving traces of his existence in the walls, the air, the bed, all over the place for years. It felt like drifting in lukewarm water. Victor giggled maniacally and pressed the edge of his almost-boyfriend’s duvet to his nose. He made it. He made it to Yuuri’s life.

When the alarm called, Victor entangled himself from the duvet and blankets and pressed his smiling face to a pillow that smelled like Yuuri. A hamster was sleeping next to the pillow and the other two were munching some food in the cage. Victor stretched, grabbed the sleeping rodent and closed all three of them in the cage, glad he wouldn’t have to chase them through the entire room before leaving. Then he took out of a suitcase some things bought specifically for the occasion, got dressed, packed his skates and, happy like a child, tied his shoes and left the bedroom. Only…

…to see a hamster sneaking out and running through the corridor, heading to the common area. Victor dropped his bag and chased it. How had that bastard done that? He’d closed all three of them, he was sure of that. Sweating in too many layers for indoors, Victor run to the shared kitchen and looked around. No sign of the hamster anywhere. Shit. Fruit Boy was going to kill him. Victor looked behind to make sure the bastard wasn’t hiding on the hall and closed the kitchen door behind him. He looked around the place feeling helpless. The room was spacious, with a few stoves and microwaves by the walls and tables in the middle. Thanks God the windows where closed, so Victor had a chance to catch the damn bastard before it escaped outside and freeze.

He started inspecting the floor, crawling on his knees and feeling helpless. He was subjected to Fruit Boy's mercy and let one of his beloved furry sons out of their bedroom. Well done, Vitya. Well done.

* * *

To Yuuri’s upmost annoyance the fitness club assigned him extra classes. The way they were disposing his time, as if they knew he didn’t really have anything to do in the two weeks, made him suspect that maybe there was more of Angela’s doing in the farce than he’d initially expected.

Entering the class to see a group of people doubling the number of poles in the studio, he tried to keep his smile on and not look annoyed. It quickly came out that at least half of the group wasn’t capable of staying up on a pole even for a moment, which was weirdly aligned with their clothing choices. Yuuri contained a sigh every time he had to ask somebody out of the class and suggest to join the basic yoga session starting along. Angela had never complained much about potentially incapable newcomers and Yuuri was convinced it was just part of his bad fame.

When the classes finally ended, he felt mentally worn out, for he’d only wasted his and those few people who had any idea what they were doing time. Whatever. He stood under a shower and, forgetting about ecology and stuff, kept the stream of hot water running until he felt hot and his muscles relaxed, which took him over twenty presses of the shower button. Eventually, feeling refreshed and a little less tired, he left the club and headed downtown where he was supposed to meet Victor.

* * *

Victor was inspecting the floor when his phone rung and he almost got a heart attack. It was Yura. Victor hesitated, but then decided it would be weirder if he didn’t answer the phone at all. It was, what, 6 p.m. in Petersburg?

“Da?” Victor asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t in the middle of a panic attack.

_“Are coming to the rink?”_ If Victor wasn’t focused on his one major task of not falling out of Fruit Boy’s favour he might have realised how much it had costed Yuri to call and what was happening, but no. Victor’s top priority was the fluffy motherfucker.

“Yes, I’m almost leaving.”

_“Great. Can we…”_

Victor froze. He was coming to a rink, obviously, but not _that_ rink. Only the hamster had distracted him.

“I mean no, no, I won’t come. Isn’t it too late by the way?”

_“Yakov booked the ice and… What are you doing then?”_

Victor didn’t answer.

_“Are you running?”_

“Yes? No. Well…”

…

“Yura?”

_“What?”_

“Do you have any idea how to find a hidden hamster?”

_“What?”_

“A hamster. Like, somewhere behind furniture.”

_“Scare away with Potya?”_

“And if I don’t have a cat nearby?” Victor, obviously, didn’t get the sarcasm at first.

_“Did you get a hamster?”_ Yura asked, with a voice of a person who realized that everything bad they’d suspected was just confirmed.

“No! I _lost_ a hamster. And it’s a matter of life and death to catch it.”

_“You lost a…”_ Yura stopped. _“Wait…”_

“I can’t wait!” Victor could hear his voice entering hysteric tones.

_“Doesn’t Katsuki have, like, three of them?”_

Victor didn’t answer that. A move in the corner of the room caught his attention.

_“And you were hangover yesterday and…”_

Victor didn’t deny anything because currently he was busy watching in horror the little fluffy motherfucker climbing a wall. Since when could hamsters climb smooth _walls_?

_“…fuck! You flew to Katsuki, didn’t you?”_

Maybe Victor would have cared about Yura discovering his whereabouts and yelling in terror and maybe, just maybe, he would have wondered why on Earth Yakov had booked the rink in such weird time, but right then Victor’s upmost problem was making sure that one of Fruit Boy’s _sons_ wouldn’t end up as a squashed bag of flesh and bones. Victor had a weird feeling that if that happened the best he could do would be leaving the building, the city, the country, and preferably the planet, and forgetting coming back home or ever competing again.

_“You don’t even deny that!”_ Yura’s sudden yell scared Victor who stumbled and fell on the floor. Something smack his back right after and he could hear the little claws scrapping on his jacket. Victor twisted to catch the hamster, but it was faster and run between the tables. He would see where if it wasn’t for his fringe falling into his eyes as he was lying on the floor.

_“VICTOR!”_ Oh, right, Yura.

“I’ll call back later.” Victor said and, without a single explanation, hung up.

When ten minutes later he was back in Yuuri’s bedroom with the troublesome rodent making fuss in his hand, he realised that, indeed, he _had_ closed three of them in the cage. He could have sworn that there had always been the maximum of three hamsters in Yuuri’s photos. Had they pullulated when he hadn’t been watching? Tired and sweated, Victor closed the last fluffy ball in the cage and, making sure no other surprise was awaiting in the bedroom, texted Yuuri that he’d be late and left the dorm.

* * *

Yuuri wasn’t sure whether it was the want to see a particular smile on Victor’s face again and he really couldn’t have come up with any better idea, or just his masochistic and suicidal tendencies saying _hi_ whenever they were the least welcome, but somehow he ended up on the seasonal ice rink, trying to adjust a pair of terribly blue and unfitting boots to his feet. He went back to the counter and exchanged them for laced skates only to go back again and ask for the clasped skates back, since there was no way he would actually tighten the thin, worn out laces over the plastic shell. That was the moment when someone poked him from behind and Yuuri turned over his shoulder and apologised to a tall man wearing a garish orange cap with a blue pompon.

“Yuuri, it’s me!”

Yuuri turned around again to see that the man with pompon was indeed Victor, though he couldn’t recognise him at the first sight. Apart from the awful cup Victor was also wearing huge glasses, covering almost half of his face, and a worn out winter jacket instead of his usual smart coat.

“Oh. Hi Victor! I didn’t know you wear glasses.” A lie. Yuuri was convinced they were fake and a whim. No one sane would pay for that hideous and bad fitting glasses with actual optical lenses.

Victor hesitated.

“Dress up is fun, right?”

“Dress up, right?” Yuuri rose his eyebrows but added nothing. Telling his date (was that a date? Yuuri wanted it to be) he thought it was lame and Victor looked anything but weird wasn’t an option.

“Here you are.” A girl from the rental put on the counter third pair of skates within a few minutes and Yuuri thanked gods he’d gotten there earlier. “And for you?” she turned to Victor.

Victors face looked as if he just realised that he’d done a terrible mistake and he hid a bag behind his back the same moment Yuuri’s eyes went to it.

“He’s got his…”

“Forty one.” Victor said, half a pitch too high. Yuuri and the girl looked at him weirdly. “Please?” He added.

“What do you mean forty one?” The girl asked.

“My shoe number?”

The girl giggled. “The biggest we’ve got is fifteen. And you don’t look like a big foot to me.” She winked to Yuuri, who though that teasing Victor like that was weirdly satisfying, especially when the fake glasses were giving him a constantly confused look.

“Just joking, I’ll check in the table. Are you from Europe?”

“Russia.”

“I see. Ten should be fine then.” She put another pair of the radiating blue skates, weirdly matching Victor’s pompon.

Victor glanced at them and collected both of their pairs, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Are you always like that with foreigners?”

“Only for those wearing funny cups.”

“Yuuuuri!”

* * *

“Yuuuuri!”

“Oh, come on, you’re practically asking for the tease. And besides, didn’t you bring your owns skates?” Yuuri pointed at Victor’s bag, which Victor was currently shoving into a locker behind his back.

“Well, I did, but, hmmm…” Victor hesitated. He couldn’t say that his skates were customised and if there was someone who knew him they were a dead giveaway. “I’ve forgotten the ice may be rough here.”

“And?”

“And that would dull the blades faster.” That wasn’t really a lie but considering he had to have them sharpened at least weekly anyway, it wasn’t the truth either.

“Oh, I see.”

Victor breathed out after Yuuri leaned to put his skates on. Now when he thought about it, taking him skating was a terrible idea. The worst Victor had had so far. And taking him to the public ice – asking for a disaster. But the alternative was revealing himself on a rink full of professionals and Victor still didn’t want that, even though the idea of skating with Yuuri made him excited about taking the ice as he used to be as a teenager. In his dreams Yuuri was sliding through the ice effortlessly, as graceful as he was while dancing, which put Victor’s skating nowhere near to his dreamt Yuuri’s artistry. And although he wasn’t deluding himself that first time Yuuri would most probably look more like he was fighting for his life than nonchalantly skate around, Victor couldn’t contain his excitement.

He agreed with both Yuuri and the rental girl that the cup looked bad, but it was big enough to stuck all of his hair and forehead, and the colours were distracting from his other features. _Yay Vitya, how smart of you, you’d only forgotten about your super obvious skates that Chris would give you shit about at least once a month. How cunning. _Fortunately, his unfortunate skates were safely hidden in a bag which was hidden in a locker, far away from anyone’s sight.

He sat next to Yuuri, who managed to end with his first boot by the time Victor calmed down, and grabbed one of the rental skates. One of the rental and definitely not figure skates.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri looked at him, concern in his eyes.

“Yes, why?”

“You look lost.”

“What? No, I just never used the clasps before.” What was actually concerning Victor was the fact that the blade was slightly, just a tiny little bit shorter at the end and lacked toe pick, definitely not a figure skating blade. Victor wasn’t even sure if he could skate in that with at least vestigial dignity. Apart from everything else, staying anonymous just got new priority, because Yakov would bury him alive if he got to know about that escapade of all things, engaging gear of dubious quality and safety measurements, in the best case, limited.

“I figured them out, I’ll help you.” Yuuri smiled and got up.

Victor had to collect his jaw form the floor when a while later Yuuri, balancing on blades and squatting in front of Victor, was helping him with the clasps. Victor could die then and there and he would die happy.

The feeling of walking a distance on unguarded blades added up to the list of things that felt terribly not right in that weird, little ice rink with colourful disco like lights shining on the ice and local radio station playing in the background. Victor made a fool out of himself yet another time when it came out he’d left his wallet in the locker. He just hadn’t thought that in places like that you had to actually _pay_ to enter the ice. Yuuri paid for both of them.

“I’ll check out the ice and will be right back” Victor said, blinking to Yuuri and leaving him at the gate for a while. The ice was indeed rough and the rental skates nothing compared to his own, but still he could work with that. It was ice. Ice was home. He skated a lap and stopped next to the gate, offering Yuuri his hand and trying to contain his grin.

“Are you ready?”

“I won’t be more than now.” Yuuri said, staring at the ice rather than at Victor.

* * *

And that was where his life was ending. Yuuri hold Victor’s gloved hand and touched the ice with one blade, moving it back and forward a few centimetres for a trial. It was _very_ slippery. He tried to add his second leg next to the first one and was so sure he wouldn’t be able to, that the fact he somehow did it without falling surprised him and he moved a little too enthusiastically, losing his balance instantly. Victor grabbed him and Yuuri wanted to start apologising, convinced that there was no way Victor could stay on the slippery, traitorous surface with almost all of Yuuri’s weight in his arms, but Yuuri couldn’t be more wrong.

Somehow Victor could stay still on the ice as if it took no effort, his posture relaxed while he was holding Yuuri’s hands and instructing him how to move and keep his balance. It wasn’t much of a help though. Unlike what Victor had been describing before, hesitant moving on the ice felt nothing like dancing. Even surrounded by competitive colleagues and demanding instructors dancing always felt like being free and that? That was the opposite of freedom. Yuuri felt bonded to the ice and couldn’t move as he intended, even more nervous and sweaty from stress thinking that he could fall and get a career ending injury. It was even worse than the season when he’d been dancing in pointe shoes during a summer performance. He hadn’t enjoyed that but the feeling of perfectly smooth dance floor under the shoes was still familiar. Ice was not. Ice was tempting, especially when he was listening to Victor or Phichit talking about it, but in the long run it wasn’t his. Or that was what Yuuri believed that first unfortunate time.

It wasn’t where he belonged.

* * *

In the middle of the day the rink wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people around for Victor to pay attention to what was happening behind his back when he was sliding slowly in front of Yuuri. Victor was selfish, wishing Yuuri would eventually lose his balance and fall right into Victor’s arms but that was not happening and Victor could see determination on his love’s face. After the first two falls Yuuri seemed to be doing everything not to repeat the mistake.

Victor turned around to get Yuuri’s hand and pull him along, though Yuuri wasn’t too enthusiastic about it, visibly nervous at any of his attempts of speeding up. But turning around on the _other_ skates took slightly different centre of gravity than Victor was used to relying on a pair of different blades and he fall back on his ass, pulling along Yuuri, who landed on his chest. Victor immediately took the opportunity and steal a quick kiss from Yuuri’s surprised lips. He couldn’t have planned it better, not only for having ice beneath him and Yuuri on top of him, how delightful, but also proving in front of Yuuri that maybe he was good at it, but not perfect. Hysteric laughter in the back of his head be damned.

“Are you ok?” Yuuri asked and there was worry in his voice.

“More than ever.” Victor beamed and helped Yuuri up.

* * *

It was a torture. Victor moved effortlessly next to him while Yuuri was fighting to keep his balance on stiff, wide legs. Victor didn’t comment it in a bad way in slightest, nothing but encouraging and supportive, but Yuuri couldn’t believe he wasn’t taking pity on him somewhere deep inside. He’d seen Phichit skating and flying through the ice and according to himself, Phichit wasn’t that good. But Victor was smiling brightly at him as if Yuuri was doing his best and Victor couldn’t wish more from him, so he kept trying.

* * *

Half an hour of the ice time Victor started getting bored. Not with Yuuri but with himself. He didn’t remember when was the last time he spend half an hour just skating laps around the rink. Probably before he’d started school.

“How about you try skating a round by yourself?” He asked and let go of Yuuri’s hand without warning. Yuuri lost balance in an instant, landing back on the ice and decided to take a break off ice and just watch, _watch_, waking the so far asleep part of Victor's personality that has always been pushing him to show off. And while he didn't have difficulties with suppressing the part in other aspects of his life, on ice it was his second nature, currently fueled by his very private flame that couldn't be dimmed.

* * *

Yuuri was watching from the boards with crossed arms, making an effort to look annoyed but he must have failed, because Victor only waved to him entering a simple spin in the middle of the ice. To say the through, Yuuri liked it much better that way, in the safe of the solid ground under his feet and watching the man he l… liked fooling around. He tried to imagine Victor dressed in one of the Phichit-like costumes that would highlight his beautiful body but it was difficult with the stupid hat and glasses Victor had decided to wear. He looked like nonsense and Yuuri felt the deep urge to tear the cup from his head. He withdrew only because of the cold weather. He hated the glasses in particular, blurring the perfect blue of Victor’s eyes that Yuuri was sure would go perfectly with the ice under his blades, so Yuuri was going to steal them from his face asap. Especially when Victor, whatever he was doing, was looking at Yuuri and payed hardly any attention to the surroundings. Weird enough for Yuuri, who had his eyes glued to the ground the entire time he’d spent there.

A group of people passed him at the gate and entered the ice when Victor stopped next to him and smiled.

“Did I earn a kiss?” He leaned over the board, smiling to Yuuri. And Yuuri was a weak man.

“Almost.” He smiled.

Victor pouted.

“Only almost?” He pushed from the board backwards, escaping from Yuuri’s reach. “What else do I have to do then?” Victor was already skating to the centre of the ice.

By the “almost” Yuuri meant taking the hideous glasses off but it was too late. Victor was speeding up, looking back at Yuuri and, Yuuri just realised, skating in the opposite direction than he was supposed to. But Victor didn’t see that, couldn’t see that and was bending down to do whatever he planned when he got closer to the shorter edge of the rink and before he entered the curve one of the newcomers skated from the opposite, proper direction, turning around and skating backwards. Yuuri could only imagine that from her perspective Victor, in his speed, appeared out of nowhere. Meanwhile Victor kept grinning to Yuuri and didn’t watch what was in front of him at all so…

Yuuri hold his breath. One second he was watching Victor skating, second he realised what was about to happen and third Victor and the girl where lying on the ice, Victor’s head and the girls butt unpleasantly close to each other.

“Vi...”

“I’m FINE!” Victor screamed, twisting his head like a wet dog and leaning above the girl.

“…ctor!” If Yuuri wasn’t convinced he’d only make it worse he’d be next to Victor the next second.

“Vic…”

“I’m fine Yuuri! Don’t make a fuss!” Victor waved at him, helping the girl on her legs. More people gathered around the two of them and, if Yuuri wasn’t mistaken, a woman was scolding the girl, although it was Victor’s obvious fault. Victor escaped the gathering and was next to Yuuri right after.

“Are you ok?” Yuuri asked, containing his comment about Victor acting stupid.

“Yeah. Can we leave?” Victor ask quietly.

“Sure.”

Yuuri carried Victor’s skates that he quickly took off and when he was back Victor had already laced his shoes and was ready to leave with a bag on his shoulder.

“Let’s…”

“Hey, I wanted to apologise.” It was the girl who’d collided with Victor. Yuuri expected him to say it was his fault and apologise himself but instead Victor turned around and left the rink tent, holding Yuuri’s wrist in iron grip and tugging him along. They left the rink but Victor didn’t let him go, leading him behind buildings and a little further, until they were out of the range of the rink. Yuuri let him until Victor decided to stop and took a few deep breaths, that were unpleasantly similar in their unsteady rhythm to what Yuuri’s own breaths had become in the last months before he’d quitted ballet for good. Victor wasn’t looking at him, instead he set his eyes on the ground and continued breathing heavily.

“Can I touch you?” Yuuri asked, uneven.

“What? Of course.”

“What happened there?”

* * *

“What happened there?” It was a simple question. Yuuri wasn’t demanding, he was worried. He was just worried.

“I… I… I… am…” Victor didn’t know how many “I”s he’d said before anything else had left his mouth. He should have told Yuuri the truth back in Petersburg, in his car, and that way that would have never happened. He shouldn’t have been so scared of being recognised, he shouldn’t have lied to Yuuri, who just took the fake glasses off Victor’s face.

“Sorry.” Yuuri said. “I like you better without them.”

Victor felt his eyes getting wet. He wasn’t supposed to cry in front of Yuuri, he wasn’t ever. It was the first time he wanted his media self to take over but next to Yuuri that part of him was inexistent.

“I should have told you earlier that I… I…” Victor couldn’t say it out loud. He just couldn’t.

“It’s ok.” Yuuri smiled, weakly. “Whatever it is.”

“I…”

“I…”

“I am…”

_“I am a professional figure skater.”_

_“I am a strike figure skating world champion.”_

_“I took gold at the Olympics.”_

_“I’m not a real choreographer.”_

_“Yuri is my rink mate.”_

_“I met Phichit in Barcelona. Oh, and I won the final, by the way…”_

“I started a therapy two weeks ago.” Victor said aloud.

Yuuri didn’t get mad. He didn’t even look upset. In a way, he looked relieved. He was too good for Victor.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Yuuri asked.

“N-no.” Victor’s tears were falling in a stream, immediately getting cold on the freezing air. “Can we go back home?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Whether it was the actual need to practice or just Phichit hiding with a glass pressed to the wall, the room was empty when they came back.

Victor was down after the incident and Yuuri couldn’t quite tell why. He avoided the topic and pulled his cap deeper onto his head whenever Yuuri asked what was wrong, so Yuuri just was next to him the entire ride back. There was silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Yuuri understood perfectly the need of having some space, even if in strictly mental terms.

When they came back he sat Victor on his bed, covered with the warmest blanket he could find and put one of the hamsters into Victor’s hands. Maybe they weren’t Makkachin, but a fluffy ball of joy has always been a fluffy ball of joy. Victor made a face at first, but when the hamster melted on his lap into a furry pancake a shy smile appeared on his face. Yuuri knew he could leave them like that for a while, cause Victor was petting the rodent with one finger, his head tilted. Yuuri looked through their fridge and, remembering Victor was theoretically on diet so he didn’t want to offer him hot chocolate (not that they didn’t even have whipped cream to go with that), he grabbed his tea can and a jar of marmalade. Close enough, he hoped.

A few of his neighbors gathered in the kitchen and pulled him into post-New Year small talk. He didn’t mind, feeling Victor needed some time alone. Yuuri came back to the bedroom after a few minutes, balancing two steamy cups in one hand and the can and jar in the other.

“Vic…”

In the few minutes Victor had fallen asleep. He was hugging tightly Yuuri’s favourite pillow but other than that he looked calm, for the first time since they’d left the ice rink. The hamster was sleeping leaned on his chin.

Yuuri, trying not to overanalyse, closed the hamster back in the cage, took off his sweater and sneaked under the blanket next to Victor, savouring the warmth of the other man and taking deep breaths. He realised the Victor’s flat in Petersburg smelt exactly like him and took another breath when Victor moved and Yuuri was afraid he’d woken him up. But no, Victor moved in his sleep and an arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist and back, pressing him closer and putting his head in place of the hamster. Maybe that was how Victor slept with Makkachin?

“Мило.” Victor murmured and relaxed again.

Yuuri wasn’t going to complain. Feeling warm and (was he allowed to use the word already?) loved, he fell asleep with Victor, the tea forgotten. Whatever it was that was making Victor freak out next to strangers and attend a therapy, Yuuri had no doubt it could be solved, together.

“And then I’ll take the nasty cup and burn it.” He murmured to Victor’s chest before he ebbed into warm, creamy darkness. Darkness full of Victor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one and only Russian word in this chapter:  
Мило. - Nice.
> 
> I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, especially that most of the ice rink is the first thing I’ve written for the fic except for maybe the two first paragraphs of Chapter 2. I can’t believe it took me 13 chapters to get there. When I was scheduling the fic it was supposed to be Chapter 7 or 8, aaah! Don't wanna be superstitious, but I hope it's just the cursed number 13 and I should be back on my 1-2 weeks between updates track right now, especially that I have the next two chapters almost ready to be betaed and posted, hurray! \o/
> 
> The girl who collided with Victor is me, or rather it’s based on what happened to me. The collision is 100% not made up (including the nasty woman who yelled at me after and acted saccharine to the guy whose face I hit with my ass, ouch)
> 
> If you enjoy the fic please leave kudos or, even better, comment. You can also say hi or yell at me on tumblr ;>
> 
> See you soon :* (much sooner than a month later, that's for sure :))


	14. Petit genre

_3rd of January, Detroit_

Taking advantage of the silence of the Sunday morning and the holiday void that kept the dorms almost desolated, Yuuri and Phichit left Victor cocooned in all of Yuuri’s blankets and occupied the shared kitchen. It was way too early for the certified night owl Yuuri to be up on Sunday, but he’d spent most of the previous day sleeping and he had enough, even cuddled in Victor’s embrace. Besides, Phichit had threatened him with waking Victor up as well if Yuuri hadn’t followed him to the kitchen and Yuuri would be a monster if he allowed to wake the overloaded cuteness in his bed.

After a dozen of hours of sleep Yuuri’s body, used to the constant shortage of rest, was shocked enough to make him dizzy and hangover. He was yawning by one of the tables as Phichit put a mug of steaming coffee and a carton in front of him. Yuuri poured a little milk into his mug, splashing all over the table and earning a mocking comment from Phichit, who drank coffee only occasionally, but when he did it was black and disgustingly strong. The Tai wiped the milk, sat heavily on the other side of the table and leaned onto Yuuri with a darting gaze. Yuuri gulped, and it wasn’t the coffee. He could recognise a Phichit hard-pressing his prey when he saw one.

“Sooo… how was yesterday?” Phichit lapped form his mug and set his eyes, like two shiny drills, on Yuuri.

“I hesitate between not that bad and a total disaster.” He sighed and took a sip. The coffee was weird.

“Now that explains _everything_!” Phichit, obviously, couldn’t be misled.

The problem was that telling Phichit everything would be relieving and Yuuri wanted to do it, but yesterday they’d come back from the rink in silence and since then Victor had been sleeping. Phichit had come late and poked Yuuri awake, who’d taken the opportunity to take a shower and slipped back into the bed by Victor’s side to fall asleep again. Phichit, whatever he’d been doing during the day, hadn’t protested and gone to bed as well. At some point of the night Yuuri had woken up alone in the bed, Victor gone, but he hadn’t even properly panicked when Victor had left the bathroom and come back to the bed with a sweet shy smile. Saying nothing, he kissed Yuuri, wrapped his arms around him, making Yuuri feel like a giant teddy bear, and fallen asleep almost immediately. After a few minutes of confusion Yuuri had fallen back into oblivion to be woken up by Phichit a few hours later. And there he was, interrogated by the nosy Thai and none wiser then when he’d followed Victor from the rink.

Telling Phichit that Victor was attending some kind of therapy without Victor’s permission, especially considering how uncomfortable about it he seemed to be, was not an option. So instead Yuuri decided to focus of the other, not more impressive part of their not-really-a-date, and put himself at the mercy of Phichit’s crosshairs. Victor better appreciated it one day, Yuuri thought, because it felt like the ultimate sacrifice for the Russian’s sake.

“It was terrible. I spent half an hour fighting for my life, forget dignity, and the other half staring at Victor doing _things_.” Yuuri sighed into his cup. “The only thing I accomplished was not falling on my ass for ten minutes straight, yayks me.”

Phichit chuckled.

“What else did you expect?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Yuuri made a face. “But wounded pride hurts more once it's, well, actually wounded. I hoped that Victor would forget about it and then you…” Yuuri waved his hands in an indistinct gesture and Phichit needed no more to understand.

“You’ll get it with time.” Phichit winked and gulped loudly. “ Everybody gets it with time.”

Yuuri laughed gloomily.

“I won’t cause I’m not going there ever again. What’s the point of having a degree in dance if you broke your leg a day later?”

“Ok… So you went to the rink, and you made a fool out of yourself, not my words, and Victor?” At that point Yuuri would be surprised if there hadn’t been two burnt out holes in place of his eyes.

“Victor is freaking gorgeous. Even if a little weird, but still _gorgeous_.”

“So you and your weird gorgeous future husband…”

“DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT!”

“…spent a peaceful afternoon skating, or attempting too, and it exhausted you so much you were well asleep at, what, eight in the evening?”

Yuuri was quiet.

“Did something happen?” Phichit asked, concerned.

“I… don’t know if…” Yuuri started.

“Yuuriii!”

“I don’t know if I can tell you. Yes, something happened, to Victor, so we came back and since then he’s sleeping.”

To Yuuri’s surprise, there was no disbelief on Phichit’s face. The Thai stared at him as if he was considering whether further interrogation was worth it, and waved his hand.

“Nevermind.” He said. “Actually, I wanted to ask how long Victor’s staying. Not that I want to kick him out, it’s kinda cuuute to watch you sleep together like two…” Yuuri genuinely regretted that he didn’t have by his hand anything to hit Phichit with. “…huggy koalas, but let me remind you that, one, the overcrowded hotels excuse is getting outdated, two, your classes start next week, which leads us to three, it’s going to get crowded _here_ in a few days.”

“And what that has to do with Victor?” Yuuri asked. “Not to look too far away, your cousin lived in our room for two whole months last year and no one was bothered.”

Phichit bit his lip and looked at the ceiling, as if it was able to provide answers.

“Victor… doesn’t blend in here very well.”

Oh, that. That was right.

“You don’t have to remind me.” And Yuuri wasn’t sure which vision was scarier: Victor standing in their tiny shared bedroom for the first time, fineness and dignity dripping from him, or the yesterday Victor on the rink, defaced by the weird cup and fake glasses.

“Besides, shouldn’t he come back to Russia soon?”

Yuuri was considering that too, but richer by the new information about the therapist he knew he wouldn’t have the gut to ask Victor about that. Not right away, anyway. There were more urgent questions.

“I don’t know. We’ll come back to that later, ok?”

Phichit tensed, but then just nodded. They were settled for a while.

Yuuri was halfway through making their breakfast look decent and presentable (because of Victor), putting strawberry and banana slices on top of otherwise repellent oats, when Victor came into the kitchen and wrapped himself around him.

“Morning.” He murmured into Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri was slowly putting the fruit slices, trying to slow down his heartbeat. It was one thing to cuddle in the bed, and another to hug tightly in the open space in front of amused Phichit.

“Morning.” Yuuri said, and tried to move to turn on the kettle. Victor followed him, not willing to let him go. “D-did you sleep well?” Yuuri felt Victor nodding. “Good.” He finished decorating the bowls, not quite pleased with the outcome, and gently removed Victor’s fingers from his waist. “Could you take it to the table?” Yuuri’s voice was quiet, something in him afraid to scare Victor off.

Victor nodded again and took the bowls while Yuuri waited for the water to boil. Once all three of them were sitting, Victor by Yuuri’s side and Phichit on the opposite side of the table, Yuuri noticed that Phichit was glaring at Victor who shrank under the gaze.

“Peach!”

“What?”

“Behave!”

Phichit looked at him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He protested.

“Stop…” But it was Yuuri who stopped, because Victor shrank even more during the short exchange, like a child who thought they were the reason on their parents fight, and Yuuri felt guilty.

“Sorry.” Yuuri’s irritation triggered by the suggestion that Victor should come back home soon seemed to affect all three of them. Phichit sighed loudly and dig into his bowl and Victor focused on pouring milk into his cup. To his account, unlike Yuuri before, he didn’t spill it, though his hand was trembling.

Yuuri stared at him enchanted. At some point Victor must have taken a shower, because his hair was rounding his face lightly, and Yuuri had learned that it was so thin and soft even a little bit of dirt was weighing them down, and that Victor could easily get annoyed about it. Long fingers took a spoon and mixed the coffee, silently, which was unlike for Victor, who usually knocked in his cup loudly. That, if anything else, made Yuuri worry the most, and he couldn’t decide if he should hug Victor or give him more space. And then Victor rose the cup to his mouth, breathed in and, opposite to Yuuri’s predictions, smiled with badly hidden disbelief. He looked at Phichit, as if considering something, before drinking his first sip. First sip of the instant coffee with weird flavouring that was nowhere near to what Yuuri dra…

“Gingerbread!” Victor’s smile widened. And with that, the weird pressure that was hanging in the room blurred.

“Ah, yeah, I got this in Barcelona.” Phichit said and put a spoonful of oats into his mouth. “Points for you, cause Yuuri didn’t seem to notice.” He said with mouth full of food. “But with Yuuri’s reflex he wouldn’t notice even if you shoved the coffee can in front of his nose.” Phichit blinked and Yuuri didn’t get it, but he noticed that Victor blushed a little.

“Anyway, what’s the plan for today?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri yawned in response.

“I should go to the gym at some point, but other than that staying cosy, probably. Victor?”

“I have a video chat to make at noon and nothing specific besides that.”

“Great. How about watching a movie and setting my sons free in the afternoon?”

“Will do, but we choose the movie.” Yuuri stated, weirdly aware that if he didn’t Victor would be put to the test of watching _The King and The Skater_ more times in a week than any human being should ever be forced to.

After emptying his bowl Phichit retreated to their room, leaving Yuuri alone with Victor who, let’s face it, still didn’t look fine. Yuuri made more coffee that with a lot of imagination and good will might be gingerbread flavoured, and moved his chair closer to Victor’s.

“Do you wanna talk about yesterday?” He asked. There was no point in pretending it hadn’t happened and Yuuri wanted to help, even having no idea how.

Victor exhaled and licked his lips.

“There isn’t much to talk about.” He said slowly, eyes set on the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t tell you before because it was only two appointments so far and when we met I didn’t even... I didn’t start it. But the last few years my life went crazy and I… I’m lost. So the therapy was a good idea, probably, but I don’t know how long… How many…” Victor’s eyes were wet.

“It’s ok.” Yuuri said, wiping a tear from Victor’s cheek.

“It’s not.” Victor inhaled rapidly, as if Yuuri’s acceptance was somehow making things even worse. “There are things I should tell you about, that I should have told you the moment we met, but I can’t… I can’t talk about them.” Eventually, Victor rose his eyes and looked at Yuuri. “I don’t want them to be.” He whispered. “But they will always be there.”

Yuuri didn’t understand a word from the reasoning but that was probably how Victor ended up with the therapy.

“Victor…” He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what was safe.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Victor said. “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri put his cup aside, sat on Victor’s lap and hugged him, feeling trembles under his arms.

“You’ve got no reason to be sorry.” Yuuri said to Victor’s hair.

“But I have.” Victor whispered back.

Having crying Victor in his arms and feeling the most lost since they had met, Yuuri realised he was scared. Not of having a relationship with Victor, or getting attached to him in his apparently unstable state, but of himself. For he had no experience with people who had mental problems and so far he’d been considering himself the most problematic case he’d met. And that made Yuuri afraid of saying something wrong, or making things worse for Victor, which he desperately didn’t want. Even though, now he knew better than asking if he could tell Phichit – he just wouldn’t, Phichit would survive that (somehow) and eventually stop tiring Yuuri about it (probably in the next decade, but still).

* * *

From Victor’s perspective, the morning was even worse than yesterday afternoon. He tried to act normal, he really tried, but all the meaningful looks from Phichit, breakfast as if from one of Yakov’s boxes and, on top of that, the taste of coffee that made him feel so incredibly homesick and lost, not sure anymore whether what he was doing was right or the exact opposite of that, left Victor crying again, which made him feel like a trash.

Meanwhile Yuuri has been so nice all the time! Victor, used to others having only expectation towards him, was completely disarmed by Yuuri’s unconditional understanding and being, just being by his side, no matter how weird Victor was acting. It wasn’t Victor’s life. Victor’s life was all demands and obligations, he was supposed to be perfect or just not be, so being allowed to make mistakes was a new quality that he didn’t know how to deal with.

He thanked himself from the few hours’ past that he’d called his therapist right after waking up and she’d agreed for a skype session, even if a few hours later. That was, he thanked himself only after the session had ended. While waiting for the connection and having no idea what he was going to tell the woman, Victor had toughed about exactly the same version of himself the worst things. He didn’t know what to tell her, so he just told her everything, which alone was extremely relieving, and an hour later maybe he wasn’t a new person, but at least didn’t freak out at the thought of doing anything other than burring himself in Yuuri’s bed. He set another appointment for Tuesday, when Yuuri should be working in the fitness club, and promised to get her a souvenir, which was the first thing during their few sessions that made her slightly embarrassed. Victor closed his laptop with a relief.

The Sunday after the New Year the campus was almost empty, only students whom job called back present here and there, so Yuuri somehow sneaked Victor into the university gym. Knowing both his therapist and Yakov, whom Victor despised just a little bit less at that moment, would appreciate him doing some exercise, Victor joined Yuuri’s warm up and followed him to the cross fit area where Yuuri without a word started doing things. Things that effectively prevented Victor from going to the free weights part of the gym because he was staring like an idiot at Yuuri doing a series of pull ups and wishing for his T-shirt to magically disappear.

“Everything ok?” Yuuri asked, an honest concern on his face, that was almost constantly present there since they left the rink the previous day.

“Yes, I was just thinking.” Victor said and ran to the leg press to hide his awkwardness. He’d been weird enough within the last twenty four hours, no need to consolidate the impression. Though he better stay away from free weights for the day. With Yuuri nearby he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t stare for too long and drop a bell on his foot.

Two hours later Victor was considering whether the gym trip was a revenge for the ice rink, because they ended it on treadmill, where at first Victor tried to keep up with Yuuri’s speed (after all, he’d won the Olympics _twice_, hadn’t he, so keeping up with a cute Asian boy shouldn’t be a problem, right? Right?) He regretted the thought half an hour later, because his inconspicuously looking Yuuri had superhuman stamina and set a killer program, making Victor dripping liquids all over his body.

Back in the dorm they found Fruit Boy chatting in the kitchen with a dark haired girl with painted nails, that was putting heavenly smelling dumplings on a huge plate. Victor, who’d been forced-not-forced to run his ass off, salivated.

“Finally.” Fruit Boy smiled innocently and set his eyes on Yuuri. “Should I ask what took you so long?”

“Should I ask which is your least favourite hamster in case of taking a hostage?” Yuuri asked.

“I shouldn’t then.”

The girl laughed.

“Hey, I didn’t know you’re back.” Yuuri said.

“I landed in the morning and Peach called me to join your movie evening.” The girl shrugged.

“Oh, right.” Victor watched Yuuri’s cheeks getting red. “Victor, this is our friend Ketty, from the same university. Ketty, this is Victor, my… Eh…”

“I know, Peach told me everything.” Ketty grinned at looked at Victor, who really wanted to hear what he was. “Hi.”

Yuuri winced.

“What did he tell you?”

_That,_ Victor thought, _was an excellent question._

“Only the bad things.” Fruit Boy grinned, quickly looking from Yuuri to Victor who could swear Phichit was enjoying himself way too much.

Yuuri frowned at that, as if he couldn’t recall what the bad things were, and Victor made a mental note to ask Phichit later about it, because he seemed to systematically stretch the already thin string that was connecting Victor’s alleged persona together. What with the time credit that Fruit Boy had mentioned the day Victor had moved in? Hmm?

Ketty came out to be an easy-going person, balancing between the aura of calmness that Yuuri spread and Phichit’s cracked sense of humour. And the delicious food she made (Herself! From scratch!) had nothing to do with Victor’s verdict. Well, maybe a little… With a warm meal in his belly, steaming cup in one hand and Yuuri’s waist in the other everything seemed better.

After a quarter of an hour of quarrelling they were still unable to compromise on the movie choice. Phichit gave up on _The King and The Skater_ only to try to vote down another Bollywood production (strongly criticised by Yuuri, who Victor suspected had been forced to watch it a number of times in the past) and cheesy ice skating movies, which made Victor want to gag the Thai once and for all. Yuuri’s first choice was a wide verity of horrors, which only made Victor realise how little they knew each other, and also made him protest, because neither he nor Yura ever watched them, having a silent agreement that it wasn’t worth not being able to sleep the following week. Yuuri didn’t have to know that. Ketty tried to vote down a psychological thriller, that seemed not much better than Yuuri’s horrors. Did none of them like safe classics or, even better, some nice cheesy romantic comedies that Yura, with the stubbornness of a cat ignoring food unless you offered him his favorite tuna, refused to watch with him?

“Now that you mention that, we haven’t watched _the_ comedy for a while.” Fruit Boy grinned.

“Yeah!” Ketty accompanied him, but Yuuri hid face in his hands.

“Nooo…”

_The _comedy was a twenty years old Japanese movie, which seemed to cause distress in Yuuri, who somehow felt responsible for anything that was made in his motherland. At first it seemed stiff, but halfway through the movie they were all crying with every more and more absurd idea the characters were coming up with. All including Yuuri, who anchored himself to Victor’s side to catch breath every few minutes. When the movie ended Victor was gasping by Yuuri’s side and feeling, well, happy. He wished for the feeling to last forever, to be at peace contented with friends, looking through the latest picks of Makka that Lena had sent him, and petting one of Fruit Boy’s furry sons on his knee, each…

Oh! And Victor remembered. All four of them had a hamster, Phichit on top of his head, Yuuri on a shoulder, and Ketty was feeding sunflower seeds to the _fourth_ one!

“Phichit?”

“Hmm?” Phichit was currently catching up with his Instagram feed from the last two hours.

“How many hamsters do you have?”

“What?” Phichit rose his head from the screen, the key word _hamster_ always catching his attention without fail. “Ah, four. Why?”

“I thought three before I came here.”

Phichit glared at him.

“I had three. I got the one on your knee after Barcelona, for Christmas.” Phichit leaned, scooped the rodent from Victor’s knee and looked into his eyes. “He’s still getting used to our little family, right, Yuutor?”

Yuuri choked on his tea.

“Are you ok?” Victor worried.

“I-I’m fine.” Yuuri murmured, while he took the hamster from his shoulder and caged it between his fingers. “I’m fine, right, Peach?”

Phichit looked at Yuuri’s doing with a pretended horror.

“Leave Bubble Wrap alone, you psycho!” He screamed.

_Bubble Wrap?_

Yuuri tightened his fingers just a little, so that Phichit could see, but the hamster still had space (not that it cared).

“Bubble Wrap!”

Yuuri moved his hands with the hamster away from Phichit, while Ketty, who was sitting between them, didn’t even react, as if it was completely normal here, and then Victor got it.

“You named your hamster Bubble Wrap?” He asked, giggling.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

Phichit rose his eyes.

“I only name my hamsters after important things and people.” Phichit said, and looked at Victor. _Looked_. Then he pointed the hamster on his head. “This is Selfie.” He said. “And this is Dictionary.” He pointed at the hamster on Ketty’s lap.

“And this…” Victor looked at the rodent that Phichit took from him a while earlier.

“And this is Yuutor.” Phichit smiled sweetly.

“What’s Yuutor?”

At that, Ketty burst out laughing while Yuuri turned scarlet.

“You’ll see.” Phichit said, his grin as wide as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING LONG NOTES YOU READ AT YOUR OWN RISK  

> 
> I’m genuinely interested what would happen if Phitty (or Ketchit?)  

> 
> Here you’ve got a full day of Victor’s stay in Detroit. It wasn’t planned in my original writing schedule AT ALL but let me smuggle some information without overcrowding other chapters plus I realised that showing the nothingness of Victor’s visit was useful. Please tell me what you think, I hope it doesn’t feel too much like a “filler” chapter, cause this chapter was the main reason why it took me so long to post the previous one >.<
> 
> Big thanks for [AnArmAndALeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnArmAndALeg/profile) for sharing with me their ideas for Phichit’s sons names and letting me use them. There was void in my head when I was thinking of names for hamsters (do ppl even name their hamsters? Idk, tbh I’m not a hamster person, but I used to name all of my fish so it seems legit) Bubble Wrap, Dictionary and Selfie enchanted me and are good boys, while Yuutor, whom I named myself, is the little asshole that Victor chased xD  

> 
> I had hard time choosing a movie that all four of them (each from different country and background, which really does make a difference in perception) would enjoy (in a way) without suggesting that all four of them are fans of a specific genre and then I remembered_ Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald (ラヂオの時間)_ which I think operates on very universal situational humour (and once Yuuri, Peach and Ketty of this universe totally made a drinking game taking shots every time someone says Ronaldo McDonaldo ;)) so should work just fine, and that’s what they watched. I don’t mention the title in the chapter but the movie is what I had in mind while writing it. If you haven’t seen it and have the possibility I totally recommend that ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading! For the first time I set a timer when started adding the chapter and with the final typo check it took me over an hour <strike>whycan’tidoaddshitquicklyohyescausei’matypoqueenthatswhy</strike>
> 
> See you in about a week ;>  



	15. Amber

_8th of January, Detroit_

_Yuri Plisetsky added Victor Nikiforov and Georgi Popovich to the chat_

_Yuri Plisetsky changed the chat name to WHAT THE HONEST FUCK EXPLAIN YOURSELVES GEEZERS!!!_

**Victor:** But Yuraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

_Yuri Plisetsky set your nickname as The Worst Geezer_

_Yuri Plisetsky set Georgi Popovich’s nickname as The Second Worst Geezer_

_You set your nickname as A Pile of Confusion_

_Yuri Plisetsky set his nickname as Ice Tiger of Russia_

_Ice Tiger of Russia set your nickname as Don’t Make it Worse Geezer!_

_You set your nickname as I Did Nothing Wrong Ever_

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Like hell you didn’t!

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** You never do!

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** But you could at least PRETEND you try 

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** But no

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Mister Walking Perfection Watch Me While I Casually Destroy You wouldn’t stain his hands appearing as if he cared

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Ofc not

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** _@The Second Worst Geezer _I know you’re hiding in the cafeteria!

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** I can hear your phone beeping you asshole

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** What the fuck is wrong with you all

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** If you won’t come back I’m telling Yak where you are

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Don’t!

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** I’m coming back soon?

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Are you asking ME?

**The Second Worst Geezer:** I’m not hiding

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** I AM coming back soon

**The Second Worst Geezer:** I’m peacefully eating lunch and keeping my diplomatic silence

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** You are BOTH the worst

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** I didn’t even know you talk to each other when Mila isn’t there to force you

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Why wouldn’t we talk to each other?

_The Second Worst Geezer added Mila Babicheva to the chat_

**I Did Nothing Wring Ever:** Wait

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** WHAT

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** THE

_You removed Mila Babicheva from the chat_

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** HELL!?

**The Second Worst Geezer:** How dare you treat me like that? M.

_The Second Worst Geezer added Mila Babicheva to the chat_

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Stop adding the hag!

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** It’s MY chat

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** So behave or leave

_The Second Worst Geezer left the chat_

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Hell NO!

_Ice Tiger of Russia added Georgi Popovich to the chat_

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Omg

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Shouldn’t you be training now?

_Ice Tiger of Russia set Mila Babicheva’s nickname as Annoying Hag_

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** _@I_ look who’s talking!

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** T________T

_Ice Tiger of Russia set Georgi Popovich’s nickname as Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria_

**Annoying Hag:** What’s going on here

**Annoying Had:** Popo won’t tell me

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** _@Get_ whatever, tell them and let me sleep

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** It’s 6 a.m. here D:

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Oh I know it is

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** And you’re not sleeping until YOU explain what the fuck is on with you, Katsuki and his damn hamsters

**Annoying Hag:** O. M. G.

**Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria:** Fine

**Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria:** I can tell them

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** _@Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria _<3 <3 <3

**Annoying Hag:** VICTOOOR

**Annoying Hag:** You chased after your Asian Boy

**Annoying Hag:** *screams*

**Annoying Hag:** _@Ice Tiger of Russia_ holly shit you can’t tell Yak

**I Did Nothing Wring Ever:** <3

**Annoying Hag:** He’s gonna skin him alive

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Then explain me what the FUCK is going on

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** _@I_ are you even going to Europeans

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Or what actually

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Ofc I’m going

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Then you better rebrand to coaching next season

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Why would I do that

**Ice Tiger of Russia: **Cause this time Yak WILL get the goddamn heart attack

**Ice Tiger of Russia: **And if he does you’ll have to take responsibility for that, geezer

**Annoying Hag: **Awww

**Annoying Hag: **The kitten cares!

**Ice Tiger of Russia: **I hate you all

**Annoying Hag: **We love you too <3

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever: **I’ll try to come back asap

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever: **Pls don’t tell Yak

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever: **I’ll bring you chocolate

**Annoying Hag: **<3

**Annoying Hag: **You’re covered

**Ice Tiger of Russia: **Speak for yourself

**Annoying Hag: **You’re covered because otherwise I’ll post the video of Yuratchka attempting to pole dance to your future husbands routine

**Annoying Hag:** Unsuccessfully XD

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Send me that and I double your chocolate

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** I REALLY HATE YOU ALLLLL!

After no new message coming for a while Victor sighted and pressed his face to Yuuri’s arm. That was unexpected. After the hamster call he’d admitted to Yura that he’d gone to visit Yuuri, but hadn’t mentioned about Georgi’s part in the plan. He must have spit it out somehow. Victor could only imagine how Popo had said a word too much during one of his cheerful exultations that Mila loved to cry with laughter about. At least Yakov still didn’t know where exactly he was, because if he did Victor had all the reasons to assume he would sent whatever was left from KGB to get him, and add some private investigators to support them. Just in case.

Yuuri was sleeping deeply by his side, so Victor went through his official Instagram and Facebook accounts, that stayed rather empty lately, checked out his tags and then googled himself. He’d been doing that a couple of times every day, usually in the safe of a toilet, and then immediately deleting his searching history, in case Yuuri ever asked to use his phone. But nothing was there. Victor had been spending most of his time in the bedroom, last few mornings at the gym with Yuuri and their biggest escapades where to the get groceries. They both had their reasons not to show around too much, and the gloomy weather wasn’t inviting them to leave the dorms for walks longer than a few blocks away. Besides, Yuuri has been working and studying during his Christmas break, so they spent many hours in his bed, Yuuri surrounded by notes and colourful body diagrams displayed on his laptop, while Victor was scrolling countless pics of poodles, reading books that must have been dusting in the common area since the Precambrian Eon and, to Yuuri’s upmost embarrassment, checking out every possible Japanese learning app the store had to offer.

Speaking of whom, Yuuri just did the thing when something seemed to distract him in his sleep and pressed closer to Victor before the sleep had caught him up and his muscles relaxed again. Yura wanted him to come back, Yakov wanted him to come back, everybody on the other side of the ocean wanted him to come back, but Victor didn’t know if he’d survive alone in his flat after having Yuuri’s warmth next to him for over a week now. Or rather he knew: he wouldn’t.

Once he dealt with the least pleasant part of his days he switched Messanger to Macchiato Poodlove and opened the chat with Lena to look at a few new picks of Makka, a throughout documentation of her morning. Makka, his girl, his princess and the only thing pumping the little will to come back.

Victor knew he had to, and more and more people were pressing him about it. Yakov was first, furious when he’d gotten to know Victor had left Russia without saying a word. Then Phichit, yesterday, making Victor realise he was being stupid, now Yura, not to mention his therapist’s subtle suggestions, and it was a matter of time when Chris would eventually realise something was wrong with Victor’s Instagram.

But the scariest part was Phichit, anyway. He’d been annoying Victor with all the little hints he was making, as if he was trying to push him into spitting out about himself, while Yuuri kept staying oblivious. Or rather, trustful to what Victor had told him, because why would he lie, and supportive so much it pained. Yuuri was oblivious, that was what Victor had thought until Phichit had caught him yesterday when Yuuri had been showering.

.

.

.

_They came back late, really late this time, because Yuuri had eventually agreed to take him to the pole dance studio. Which meant: he’d agreed to sneak him into another place after closing hour, making sure no one would be there so see them. And Victor didn’t insist for anything other than that, aware of Yuuri’s still fresh fame that was causing a danger of him being recognised. Even if not by the pole dance classes attendants, Yuuri’s photos from the sessions have been going viral short after a class ended and at some point Yuuri had stopped wasting energy to care. But that also meant that if Victor was by any chance in one of them it would make it’s round around the world, and that someone would eventually recognise him would be a matter of hours. There was no excuse to wear a cap and fake glasses during fitness classes after all._

_Even though, he somehow got blessed with seeing Yuuri’s private show in the very same room he recorded his “birthday” video. Yuuri tried to teach Victor some basic moves, rather unsuccessfully, since Victor had never touched a dance pole before, not sober at least, so they came back giggling and not very tired. Yuuri didn’t dare to use the cleaned showers in the locker room so once they were back Victor was left on Fruit Boy’s mercy, who saw the opportunity on instant._

_“Victor?” Phcihit asked._

_“Hmm?” Victor, happy with the endorphins and smell of Yuuri on his blanket, didn’t notice the danger._

_“When are you coming back?”_

_Shit._

_“Why?”_

_Phichit didn’t say anything until Yuuri turned on the shower._

_“Europeans are in three weeks.” Phichit said, not a question._

_“And?”_

_“Isn’t your coach gonna kill you?”_

_By now Victor was wiser than telling Phichit that Yakov was going to kill him or yell at him whatever he did, and that he was going to win Europeans respectively, so he just shrugged._

_Phichit sighed._

_“Besides, Yuuri may seem oblivious about some things but he sees more than you think. You know what he told me in the morning? That you started to do the too-long-off-ice-thing.”_

_“I started to do what?” What on Earth was that?_

_“The too-long-off-ice-thing.” Phichit smirked. “I didn’t know I was doing that until Yuuri told me two years ago. Yuuri is good at observing, you know.” The Thai got up from his bed and presented the goddamn too-long-off-ice-thing and Victor gasped. Phichit put his feet on the floor in the sliding motion that would make him move on ice, but anywhere else his feet met resistance and stayed in place. Victor indeed did that, sometimes, at the end of offseason. He had started doing that as a child and wasn’t even aware it stayed, but he could clearly recall the pointless disappointment that always followed the move._

_“I don’t…” He protested._

_“Oh yes, yes you do. I didn’t notice before Yuuri mentioned it, either.”_

_“Shit.”_

_“I mean, he knows you can skate, but maybe you should…”_

_Victor felt his body tensing._

_“Not now.” He said quickly._

_Phichit was looking at him for a while longer._

_“Whatever you want. Just remember you can’t keep pretending forever.”_

_After that, Yuuri stopped the shower._

* * *

Yuuri reached to press the third, or maybe forth, snooze in the morning, but Victor moved and took over his phone.

“Enough.” He murmured to his ear and turned off Yuuri’s alarm completely. Which meant that Yuuri could either get up then and there or oversleep to the… shit. The airport!

“What time…”

“Half past nine.” Victor yawned heavily, as if it was much earlier, and Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. He had time. “Peachit left two hours ago, or something like that.” Victor’s arms tightened around Yuuri’s waist and he felt his nose pressing to his neck.

Yuuri swallowed the saliva collecting in his lips.

“Five more minutes.” He requested. Victor couldn’t hug him like that and then demand to just get up, as if he wasn’t going to leave Detroit in time more or less undefined, but knowing Yuuri’s luck sooner than later.

“You’ll fall asleep again.” Victor murmured. “Come on, get up.” But none of his actions was enabling Yuuri to do that. “Or the friend of yours will have to wait, right?”

“Fiiine.” Yuuri turned around to face the other man. There was hardly noticeable redness around Victor’s eyes, but otherwise his face looked content. “Let’s make some coffee. I need to wake up.”

Victor grinned predatorily.

“I’ve got something better to wake you up.” For a brief while a hope, willing that had all rights to be there, having Victor right here in his bed and yet…

To Yuuri’s disappointment, Victor sat up, reached for his phone and turned on a video. The quality was bad, taken with a shaky hand and giggling in the background. It was in a dance studio with a portable pole set on a side. The video was taken from a weird angle, so Yuuri couldn’t see a lot. After some muted giggles and a few words in Russian, probably, a familiar music started to play and Yuuri felt his chicks burn. Why this again?

“What the…”

“Just wait.” Victor said with a malicious grin.

So Yuuri waited, unconvinced, but it payed off a second later, when Yuri appeared in the camera frame and tried to do… something. It looked like a particularly unsuccessful trial of the opening of Eros routine, but Yuri’s arms and grip seemed to be too week to support him for long. The frame shook, whoever made the video laughed and Yuri slid down the pole in an uncontrolled move. Yuuri tried to contain himself but that, along with the fact that it’d been Yuri who’d exposed him to similar embarrassment in front of Victor, made him loose control and he burst out laughing.

“How cute. Why do I have a feeling little Yuri didn’t want to be recorded?”

“True. It’s a priceless material to tease him about.” Yuuri didn’t know the slightly mean part of Victor before, but he adored it like any other.

“Right. What can I say…” Yuuri yawned particularly heavily. “…he deserved it after being a little shit. But I really need the caffeine.”

Yuuri got up and stretched, then glanced at Victor.

“Are you sure you wanna go to the airport with me?” Yuuri, of course, prayed for Victor to want to, but he also felt like the Russian had no privacy and, well, his own life, since he came.

“Sure.” Victor’s smile was back to normal, no mean undertones in it. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I got the impression you felt nervous when Esca was around, so…”

“What Esca has to do with that?” Victor frowned. Absolutely adorable, gods, why he had to note every single one of Victor’s faces like a pathetic human database?

“Angela’s Esca’s sister and she’s just as intense.”

“Oh.” Victor’s smile faded a little and Yuuri realised he enjoyed teasing him maybe a little bit too much.

* * *

After getting Yuuri’s friend from the airport Yuuri lost his car, that came out to be actually Angela’s. In Victor’s opinion the woman wasn’t like her sister, she was more. More hair, more talking, much more questions, which made Victor sweat, said in loud voice, definitely more touching, kissing cheeks and making both of them embarrassed, though Yuuri seemed to be used to that. There was a weird energy between them that felt familiar but Victor couldn’t classify it, and then, when they were back in the city and staying in traffic, from word to word Victor realised she was Yuuri’s pole dance instructor and it clicked. All the professionally dancing people out there were to be watched out in Victor’s opinion, Yuuri, with his incredible ability to change from innocent to dangerously seductive in mere seconds, being no exception.

They helped Angela carry all her luggage to her flat, which was nothing like her sister’s bohemian hideout on a budget. Instead, it was clean, light, cosy and nicely furnished. After using the most of both of them in a supermarket and making them carry her shopping as well, Angela closed Yuuri in a bear hug, adding that it was from Eska, gave Victor last of her apprising looks and shut her door, saying that she won’t handle being with other people a second longer. Something about being worn out after a family meeting. She also informed Yuuri that he’s supposed to lead the Saturday class for the last time, even though she was back, and that was all of her that Victor saw. More than enough, if somebody asked him.

Seemingly insignificant, the airport trip reminded him of the morning chat with his rink mates and the conversation he had with Phichit the other night. He should come back to Petersburg, and he should come back soon. The past week he spent in Detroit was theoretically free and he was allowed to dispose the time as he wished. For years he’d been using it for extra trainings though, as for the slightly younger, competitive Victor far more important than holidays or family were the upcoming competitions. It was the first time in years when he’d chosen something else, so while Yakov had right to be surprised, a little bit angry even, as he was breaking morale of the other skaters that took it seriously, he still wasn’t _really_ mad. He hadn’t commented about Nationals other than referring to his performances and he cancelled the box diet subscription until Victor would be back (Lena, who took care of the food along with Makka, sent him a stream of sad emoji’s after he informed her).

That was it for now, but when he wouldn’t appear for practice on Monday morning it would be something entirely different. And it wasn’t an inkling, it was knowing for sure that Yakov would be absolutely mad, both about Victor ruining his work on him and letting down Yura which, if anything else, actually talked to his conscience.

“What is it?” Yuuri smiled to him as they left the bus.

“What?” Did he miss something?

“You look worried.” Yuuri said and his eyebrows almost met.

Victor wanted to say it was nothing, but since the unfortunate ice rink almost-a-date Yuuri wasn’t quite pleased when Victor said that. But it was Victor’s fault after all, and even though he treated the therapy as a second topic, it didn’t lessen the fact it was an actual problem. He wanted to keep Yuuri safe from his skating persona, so he could make the little sacrifice and deal with that.

“I was thinking about coming back.” Victor admitted. To his please, Yuuri stiffened, as if the topic was upsetting him as well.

“Oh.” He said. “It was a while, right?”

“Yeah… I don’t really want to, but…” Yuuri’s finger appeared on his lips.

“I don’t want that either.” Yuuri whispered and kissed him, there, in the middle of a bus stop, full of people. Wow. “So maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” Victor whispered and kissed him back before Yuuri braided their fingers and they hurried to the dorm.

Victor leaned back from a kiss and caressed Yuuri’s bottom lip when Yuuri sucked in Victor’s tongue, suddenly, teasing it with his own and biting delicately on the tip, and God, it felt amazing. Victor couldn’t contain a moan which seemed to encourage Yuuri, whose hands slowly slid from Victor’s neck tracing his spine and sending shivers all over his body, and cupped his ass while Victor was busy returning the tongue favour. They parted and Yuuri caught his lips again. That time there was no gentleness in it. He kissed into Victor as if he was air, as if Victor was for Yuuri just what Yuuri was for him, sending a new wave of shivers down Victor’s body, only this time it reached every single tip of his fingers and toes. Victor was sure he was perfectly red on the strip of his face from nose through cheeks and ears, something he’d been struggling with since he was a child, but he didn’t care. He took Yuuri’s glasses off, no matter how cute they made him look Victor hated the lenses for making the extra barrier between their eyes, and melted into the liquid amber. He had spent countless hours contemplating their colour and knew that they were too deep for chocolate, too shiny for cinnamon but brown amber it was. And not just because of the colour but also because Victor was a fly imprisoned within them since the first contact.

That move, the glasses put away, made Yuuri bolder, or maybe he just read Victor’s behaviour as an invitation, because his strong, skilful fingers moved to the rim of Victor’s jeans and slowly slipped in underneath, leaving burning traces on his skin while Yuuri moved his lips to Victor’s jawline and Victor wondered how he deserved that, what had gained the moment for him in his boring, champ…

Victor froze. He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t do that. Not like _that_. It would be unfair to Yuuri. To Yuuri who wasn’t a random person met in a bar after a few too many victorious drinks, but who was his Yuuri, the person he loved and cared for the most in the world and his entire life. Victor might have been a lair, was a lair, but he didn’t fall that low to let Yuuri have sex with him not knowing whom he really had sex with. It was just… not. It would be unforgivable.

It didn’t take long for Yuuri to realise something wasn’t right and Victor stopped. The Japanese was an observer. Victor knew when Yuuri’s eyes looked back into his and hands wandered from Victors back to his neck.

“Sorry.” Yuuri said, hoarse but warm.

“No, it’s me, I…” Victor stopped. He couldn’t say that. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know when he would be but that still wasn’t the time. He was aware that he was waiting for a perfect moment that was never meant to come but the fear, the fear of known, was too strong.

“It’s ok.” Yuuri smiled and caressed Victor’s chick. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And what could Victor answer to that? Maybe he didn’t deserve Yuuri, maybe he was nowhere near to the perfection, but he was trapped in the amber forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamtaratam, a minute of silence for Yuuri’s unfulfilled hopes xD
> 
> If you expected actual smut here that means you don’t know me at all ;p
> 
> Writing three pages of chat makes my heart grow cause a few years ago writing any dialog or conversation was causing me anxiety so yaaay, I did it (somehow) BUT please let me know if anything in the chat description, like changing names and chat name is weird (like idk if that’s the “formula” the apps leave in English versions xD) My default language for apps isn’t English so it’s how I think it looks like but I’m not sure :P Couldn’t Google it easily and I’d rather write another chapter than waste time Googling something like this ^^” The entire chat is actually in Russian, obviously, and from their private accounts (does that make sense? It does to me)
> 
> The too-long-off-ice-thing is actually the too-long-off-skates-thing and it’s even worse when it’s storm season in summer and rollerblading is just no for two weeks D: I have genuinely no idea if anyone other than me does that but whatever xD
> 
> Thanks for reading, please leave feedback, see you soon ;>


	16. The whole world is calling

_11th of January, Detroit_

The sun went from black to grey lazily, just like Yuuri’s attitude changed from resignation into unwilling acceptance. All his plans about catching up with sleeping during the holiday and appearing for his last classes before graduation fresh and joyful had been ruined four hours prior, when Victor’s phone started ringing a particularly loud and annoying song. It’d woken all three of them up, though Phichit had been asleep again after mere minutes, while Yuuri had been struggling to rest till the morning, when he had to get ready for the warm up before classes.

Maybe it would have been easier to fall asleep again if it hadn’t been for Victor, who’d closed himself in their tiny bathroom and spent there about quarter of an hour. Through the thin wall Yuuri could have heard him speaking, voice strengthen by the night time silence, and tough he couldn’t have understood a single word of the rapid Russian conversation the tone of Victor’s voice, slightly hysteric and similar in its tune to what it’d been after the ice rink incident, sometimes changing into whisper and trembling, as if Victor had been holding back tears, had made Yuuri worry till the morning. He didn’t have to understand the words to know something was wrong, and considering the time, the language, and the day of week, somebody had been looking for Victor back in Russia. Yuuri felt the uneasiness somewhere midway between his stomach and heart, that had been there since the day Phichit had asked him how long Victor was going to stay. Even knowing it was by no means possible, if it would be up to Yuuri, he’d keep the Russian man close forever.

Victor had sneaked back next to Yuuri after leaving the bathroom and their eyes met for a while, but he’d said nothing. He’d hugged Yuuri tightly, which made him knew that Victor hadn’t fallen asleep that night either, as his muscles hadn’t relaxed till the morning.

Yuuri got up stiff, not changing his position much not to disturb Victor made him feel bugs running all over his limbs. After worrying for half of the night he was more tired than the evening before, and felt guilty that he had to leave Victor alone again, after something that made him visibly upset.

Cold shower, beeping of Phichit’s messages, milkless coffee and extra splash of maple syrup in his oats did nothing to awaken his enthusiasm, only the cold wind on his cheeks sobered him a little, but after the warm up he still wasn’t put together enough to avoid a teasing comment form Mia, who was fresh and ready to rock the world, obviously.

Tomorrow, Yuuri thought. Tomorrow he’d be the same.

* * *

When the door closed after Yuuri and his steps muted on the stairs Victor jerked up and got up immediately. After Yakov’s night call everything was boiling in him. On the positives of the situation was the fact that Yakov still had no idea where to find him, on the negatives that they’d called each other every possible name Victor could think off, yelled at each other and then, after Victor stuck on the same argument repeated over and over again while Yakov reached to essential reasoning and proving Victor had been acting like a brat rather than a grown up man, Victor hung up. After considering for a while, it was hard to argue with that, and in a way Yakov, even not knowing where to find him, won the fight.

Victor was pissed, so he did the only thing he knew could calm his nerves and went skating. Which made him even more pissed because, in a way, he knew Yakov would want him to, and the inner brat in him didn’t want to do anything that could please Yakov, even in slightest. Ugh!

Because he was smart, and no old coach would prove him wrong, ever, he found and borrowed one of Yuuri’s beanies that could contain his hair, searched for his fake glasses and the old second hand jacket that he’d never wear in any other circumstances. His eyes rested on the bag with his skates. Risky but… God, the rentals were hell to use! If only he could somehow cover the… Cover!

After over a week of living in the tiny bedroom Victor learned that there were some boundaries not to be crossed, like leaving food and hamsters unattended simultaneously or keeping sweaty training clothes in the bedroom instead of putting them directly into one of the washing machines in the basement. Rummaging in each other’s stuff wasn’t one of them. That’s why Victor felt fully justified when he stood in front of Fruit Boy’s side of the shared closet and looked critically at the piles of colourful clothes searching for one particular thing. Nowhere to be found. He opened a drawer, full of underwear, then another one, in which Phichit kept socks, most of them singles, and he was closing it when… Oh, yes! Fruit Boy’s furiously green skate covers form the previous season blinded him from the corner.

* * *

“Yuuri! Are you listening to me?” Mia asked and blown her cheeks.

“W-what? Yeah, sure.” Let’s consider he did.

“What I just said?”

Did they had to do that? Like in elementary school? Yuuri looked at her, unconvinced. What could she say?

“Yuuriiiii! Are you in love or something?” Mia asked, jokingly. That, however, drew his attention. Not that he’d admitted that, but he was, actually.

* * *

The ice was… not tragic. Not smooth and clean, but at last there weren’t loads of snow on the surface as he remembered after coming with Yuuri, and it was empty. Literally – empty. Except for the rental girl, the same Victor remembered, but luckily he didn’t have to say hi, and one man by the counter, he was the only person there, so could peacefully lace his boots, hide them behind Fruit Boy’s covers, that were reaching all the way down his heel, what a relief, and chill. Maybe even a little too much chill, because it was a really cold morning, but the sun peeking shyly from behind the clouds and shining through the plastic windows of the giant tent made him easy and calm.

At first he tried to go through his warm up routine, but the tiny rink ending in front of him every single second made it troublesome, so Victor was skating mindlessly, not thinking about what he was doing, nor anything else. He wished he could have taken the beanie out and feel the air on top of his head, but he didn’t dare, not there. So instead he was doing simple spins from time to time and some single and double jumps until a few people came after nine and he was just gliding lazily, calming himself down. It would be his little secret, no one had to know.

With the beginning of the term the dorm building indeed got crowded, but in the Monday morning, when most of students had classes or trainings, it was nice and empty. Once Victor made sure he put Phichit’s covers exactly where he took them from and hid his questionably looking outfit back into his suitcase, he went to the nearby grocery store and, out of his good heart (and the fact that he felt guilty for overusing Yuuri’s and Fruit Boy’s hospitality) he got ingredients to cook a soup. At least it would be “healthy and stuff”.

Proud of himself, Victor was peacefully seasoning his soup, feeling surprising joy and sympathy for the entire world (surprising especially after the sleepless night) and humming his free program music. The sun that for a short while was shining on the rink hid, but if you asked Victor it was still there, making everything warm and nice. Everything…

Victor’s phone rang and he answered it form cloud nine, forgetting that the shared kitchen had a power to summon unwanted calls.

“Hel-lo!” Victor chirped to the phone, not even looking at it, because it wasn’t Yakov’s dedicated scary ringtone, and if it wasn’t Yakov it must have been Yuuri, because who else would ca…

_“Cheri?”_ Chris’ voice sounded from the other side and Victor dropped and spoon right into the pot, splashing red liquid on his bright T-shit. Victor swore and couldn’t decide if it was a reaction for Chris calling or the almost impossible to wash stain on his clothing. Probably both.

_“Am I interrupting?”_ Entertain mixed with concern in Chris’ voice.

Victor had to calm dawn. Chris called him because they were friends. Chris called him to chat. Chris called him and was convinced Victor was in Russia, and in Russia it was early evening, so it was perfectly reasonable to call.

“I’m cooking.” Victor said and turned on the speaker.

_“You?”_

“Yes, me.”

Chris sighed and Victor heard him taking a deep breath.

_“Victor, I don’t want to be insensitive, but…”_

“Then don’t be.” Victor said, trying to recoup the spoon with a fork.

_“…what _the fuck _are you doing?”_

“Soup.” Victor said, and snorted.

_“I’m not asking about that!” _Chris was annoyed. Not good. It wasn’t that easy to annoy him. _“I’m asking why THE HELL are you hiding in Detroit, in Katsuki’s BEDROOM?”_

Victor almost got the spoon when it drowned down again.

“When Yura told you?” Victor squeaked. With Chris having that precise information, there was no point in hiding. He was tired enough with lying to Yuuri.

_“What? So Yura knows where you are?”_

Victor turned off the heat and sat on a chair. He shouldn’t be standing during the talk, that he was sure.

“If not from Yura, how do YOU know where I am?” Victor switched to French, in case someone came.

There was a while of silence on Chris’ side.

_“Are you stupid?”_

Victor laughed, hysterically. Like a stupid.

_“Phichit told me.” _

Phi. Chit. Told. Me. FUCKING SHIT that TRAITOR! And Victor was considering getting him two hamsters instead of one, seriously!?

Victor inhaled deeply, trying to calm down.

“And when did Phichit told you?”

_“The moment your Asian boy told him you’re coming, moron!”_

“What?” That… That was unexpected. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

_“That’s not why I’m calling.”_ There was irritation in Chris’ voice. _“I won’t judge you for taking a break, but I had no idea you didn’t tell your coach and that you won’t come back in… When are you coming back?”_

“First, how do you know my coach doesn’t know if Yura didn’t tell you? Second, I don’t know, why everybody cares?”

_“First, because your coach called to my coach and he asked me and now I have to act stupid. And second, it’s not a question, you ARE stupid, why didn’t I notice it before?”_

Victor sighed, silently.

_“You were supposed to attend the therapy and…”_

“I am.” Victor interrupted him. “I have sessions on skype. I’m not that stupid, heh?”

_“And when was the last time you skated, if I may ask? Europeans are in three damn WEEKS!”_

“Two hours ago.” Victor said, and this time it did sound hysterical.

_“You… what? How? Phichit says…”_

“I’m not that stupid, you know?” Oh, he was, but Chris didn’t have to know that. “And Fruit Boy doesn’t watch me twenty four seven.”

_“That… I didn’t expect that.”_ Chris said. _“Phichit said…”_

“Is Phichit some kind of an oracle?” Victor said with malice.

_“No bu…”_

“Great. Till later then. I have a soup to finish.” Victor hung up, thinking of a revenge. Which hamster would be the best to kidnap, again?

Next person to attack him that so badly started Monday was Lilia. Though with Lilia the word _attack _didn’t fit very well, because the former ballerina was calm and factual, asking questions about Victor’s whereabouts as if they were chatting about a holiday destination, and not forcing him when he refused answering. Victor wondered if they knew Yura knew, but he hoped the boy was secretive enough to sit quiet. Then she asked how Victor was, which made him feel odd because it was and odd way of being for Lilia, as if she cared for Victor as a person and not a representative of her teaching skills, and he remembered her visit in Barcelona. The memory made him feel safer, grateful almost, and led to realisation that, if she soft-pressed him a while longer, he’d tell her everything, because in a way he wanted to, especially since she didn’t mentioned Europeans, or even skating in general. So he cut the talk short, said he was fine and struggling with finding a flight from his current location, which was an obvious lie, and politely said goodbye.

* * *

Even though Phichit was Yuuri’s best friend and they’d get cut for each other, they almost never picked each other up after classes or trainings unless they were going out together right after. Too divergent schedules and too little time to sleep in their life to waste time like that. That’s why when Yuuri left the studio at four in the afternoon and saw Phichit, who should be home long time ago, in front of the building and with his training bag on one shoulder, he thought something was wrong. The guilt in his friends behaving couldn’t be just Yuuri’s imagination, seriously, couldn’t, it was too obviously spread all over his face. But Phichit kept saying it was nothing and after a few trials Yuuri let him be.

Back in the dorm Yuuri couldn’t shook off the feeling that something was off about Phichit and Victor, in a weird way, because, for a change, Phichit was parading with an innocent face and Victor was giving him accusatory looks, but Yuuri couldn’t come up with what could make Victor so irritated, especially that, as long as Yuuri knew, they hadn’t seen each other in the meantime of his classes. They ate soup Victor cooked while they were out in a relative silence, and Yuuri couldn’t stand the atmosphere, so he collected the dishes and left them alone. He come back a few minutes later and the polarisation of the atmosphere went upside down. Now Victor seemed contented and Phichit like a beat dog.

“Did you have a fight?” Yuuri asked, for a trial.

“No.” They answered simultaneously, and Yuuri decided he’d eventually find out, anyway.

* * *

_Ice Tiger of Russia added Christophe Giacometti to the chat_

_Ice Tiger of Russia set Christophe Giacometti’s nickname as The Gross Geezer_

_The Gross Geezer set his nickname and Sex on Blades_

**Annoying Hag:** How sweet our little fan club is growing!

**Sex on Blades:** Oh

**Sex on Bladed:** OOOH!

_Ice Tiger of Russia set Sex on Blades’ nickname as Disgusting Pervert_

**Disgusting Pervert:** I have so much to catch up!

**Annoying Hag:** Ask if you need any extra clarification

**Annoying Hag:** _@I_ keeps being secretive about it

_Disgusting Pervert set his nick name as You Wish To Touch_

**Annoying Hag:** XD

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Whatever

**Annoying Hag:** Typical

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Stop adding everybody to the chat!

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** _@You _can read

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** But be quiet

**You Wish To Touch:** Omg Popo’s here

**You Wish To Touch:** _@Annoying_ I need a summary of your sweet Russian talk ;*

**You Wish To Touch:** _@I_ I didn’t ask for instructions and yes I know I can read cause I don’t understand a word, merci

**You Wish To Touch:** Not that you have right to give us any

**You Wish To Touch:** You clearly cannot be trusted with making reasonable decisions

**You Wish To Touch:** _@Ice Tiger of Russia _I didn’t know they talk to each other too no?

**Ice Tiger of Russia:** Ha!

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** What’s wrong with ya’ll

**You Wish To Touch:** Victor you and Popo are the opposite sides of the same magnet

**You Wish To Touch:** DRAMA QUEEN MAGNET

**Annoying Hag:** lmao

**You Wish To Touch:** Well now Love Sick Drama Queen Magnet

_You Wish To Touch changed the chat name to The Petition To Vitya To Get His Shit Together_

**You Wish To Touch:** And get married already so we all can go home

**Annoying Hag:** _@You _speak for yourself

**Annoying Hag:** I don’t have TV in my dorm

**Annoying Hag:** The chat is my only source entertainment

**Annoying Hag:** *brings popcorn*

**You Wish To Touch:** Oh

**You Wish To Touch:** Can I add Phichit

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Do it and I NEVER talk to you again

**Annoying Hag:** Phichit? Like the Thai guy?

**Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria:** Hate to interrupt

**Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria:** But it’s 1 in the morning

**Get The Fuck Out Of The Cafeteria:** Some of us want to sleep

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** _@Get_ too bad you couldn’t keep it to yourself ^_^”

**Annoying Hag:** *munch munch munch…*

**Annoying Hag:** But Vityaaa

**Annoying Hag:** Make us an update

**Annoying Hag:** What are you doing?

**Annoying Hag:** Is your future husband with you?

**You Wish To Touch: ***dies to know*

**Annoying** **Hag:** There’s NOTHING on the gossip sites

**Annoying Hag:** Are you hiding or something

**You Wish To Touch:** O M G

**Annoying Hag:** There’s nothing

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** And so it should stay xd

**Annoying Hag:** So what

**Annoying Hag:** Are

**Annoying Hag:** You

**Annoying Hag:** Doiiiiiing .-.

**You Wish To Touch:** ;*

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Nothing in particular

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** Staying warm

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** *sent a selfie with messy haired Yuuri*

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** _@You_ no ;* his roommate is here

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** T_T

**You Wish To Touch:** Say no more cheri ;0

“Um, Victor?” Yuuri said, not rising eyes from a note sheet.

“Yeah?”

“Shouldn’t Yuri be sleeping now? It’s late in Russia, right?” Because Yuuri was convinced Victor was texting Yura. Which technically wasn’t a lie, but it was just as true as everything else Victor was saying, guiltily.

“Probably yes, but you know how teenagers are.” Victor laughed nervously, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but Yuuri only shrugged and leaned back over his notes.

Phichit’s phone beeped, or rather squeaked, and he put away Bubble Wrap to pick it. He typed something furiously with the speed of an experienced Instagramer and furrowed, then typed more.

“I’m going out.” Phichit said, got up and grinned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He added, looking right into Victor’s eyes.

**You Wish To Touch:** Tadah!

Victor felt hot and cold at once. Yuuri shrugged again.

“Don’t get kidnapped.” He murmured, still staring at his papers.

**Annoying Hag:** What tadah?

**You Wish To Touch:** Is the roommate still there?

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** *gasps*

**I Did Nothing Wrong Ever:** …

**I Did Nothing Wring Ever:** !!!

**Annoying Hag:** Wait

**Annoying Hag:** _@You_ how do you know the roommate if Victor won’t say anything

**You With To Touch:** That’s my sweet secret princesse ;)

The moment the door shut behind Phichit Victor got a new message.

**Phichit:** Say thanks to Chris ;D

Yuuri was studying for a while longer when his phone beeped. He looked at it and blushed, than looked back at his notes, and Victor knew he tried to act as if he didn’t just got an indecent text from Fruit Boy. Yuuri eyes reached the down of the paper and he put it away to look at Victor.

First at his eyes, than slip down to his nose, which, for some unknown even for its owner reason, was intimidating Victor, maybe because the tip of it was often flushed, or that Victor had always considered noses to be the rather clumsy part of human anatomy, to which had been giving expression through his entire kindergarten career, stubbornly refusing to draw them. Then Yuuri’s eyes moved to his lips and there they stayed, widened for the first time since the unfortunate Friday night, that to Victor seemed ages ago, and also when he fucked up everything perfectly, so that Yuuri was afraid to touch him.

“Can I kiss you?” Yuuri asked, casually, like he was asking the entire weekend. Victor didn’t know how he wasn’t tired of him.

He didn’t answer, just nodded.

* * *

In the evening Yuuri spent quality time with Victor, meaning: after kissing and cuddling with Victor, because no matter how much Yuuri’s everything was screaming to get more, Victor didn’t seem to share the feeling and being a source of distress for him was the last think Yuuri wanted. After that, happy though not fully content, he prepared everything for the morning and quickly fall asleep hard, with Victor’s head pressed to his neck. The last thought he remembered was worrying that Victor could get cold, because he was refusing sleeping in socks and his feet must have dangling from the bed.

It was a rare occasion in Yuuri’s life to have everything prepared for the morning. Food ready to eat in the fridge, clothes for the next day folded neatly on his bag, fully packed including a water bottle and snacks, the room a little bit cleaner than usually thanks to the presence of Victor that made him want to try a little bit more (though at that point Phichit also deserved a honourable mention as he was the main chaos maker in the room along with his sons and was not there that evening). Yuuri’s phone was plugged for the night and even coffee put into mugs, so that all he’d have to do after getting up would be the bathroom, getting dressed and pouring hot water into the mugs. They went to bed early, cause Victor’s presence made the perspective inviting and more tempting than watching a few episodes of whatever he’d found. For once he’d be ahead of Mia, well rested, fresh, and having everything he needed, he’d woke up in the morning and, starting on Tuesday, 12th of January, that would be his new, daily routine.

There was one thing Yuuri hadn’t considered though, which was Victor’s friends, colleagues, family, or whoever could visit or call him, who were particularly steadfast when it came to ruining Yuuri’s plans. The phone rang at, what Yuuri was going to notice later, half past two in the morning.

Victor barked to the phone in Russian, annoyed, but he quickly calmed down when the person on the other side answered.

“Lena?” Victor asked. The light of the nightstand lamp was weak, but Yuuri could swear Victor paled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this fic please consider leaving feedback :) and see you soon!
> 
> (I may make some minor edits in this chapter other than cleaning typos (generally I'm going to get rid of a few repetitions, like excessive number of "after"s in a few paragraphs) but right now someone close to me in hospital for sixth week and I'm at the verge of a mental breakdown from all the stress tbh and I have no energy to do that, I'm adding the chapter to do something, anything, though I know it should be polished a little bit more, ugh, what a terrible month, sorry)


	17. Incognito

_12th of January, Detroit_

He was running. Speeding up whenever free space appeared within the crowded halls, scampering through other people, suitcases and newspapers stalls. Evading information boards and coffee desks, taking a shortcut through the duty free store, his unseeing eyes slipping through walls of bright candy and shiny bottles of liquor. If he snagged any of them he’d never know, deaf to everything, focused only on the one task of running to his gate.

He stopped in front of the gate and looked at his watch. It was over an hour for his flight to departure. There was nothing he could do. He had no power to rush the plane. All that was left was waiting, and praying for the plane to be punctual, and regret, regret, regret so much, despising himself for being careless. He’d tried to cheat the universe, but instead the universe had cheated him, allowing to feel safe, believing that he could run away without consequences, and then punishing not him, but what was of the biggest value, what was the closest to his heart. The universe was cruel, that was all Victor could think of waiting by the gate for the boarding to start and looking at his watch, time slacking maliciously.

He was the worst. Ever. Makka was sick. Makka was bad, Makka needed a surgery, Makka had eaten something she shouldn’t have, Makka had nearly died unattended, while Victor was playing vacation in Detroit and practicing how many lies he could sell in an hour.

There were other signs. God, _everybody_ had been asking him to come back, everybody making hints and suggestions but Victor, like always, had known better.

* * *

Less than two hours. Less. Than. Two. Damn. Hours. This was how much it had taken Victor to disappear from Yuuri’s life. Not forever, hopefully, and that was an emergency, a particularly bad one, but Victor’s commitment, rapid moves and decisions were speaking more than any words what they were - whim. Illusion. A piece of nothingness. Maybe he’d been right back then, saying goodbye to Petersburg and all the interactions he’d been having with Victor since then had been withdrawing the unavoidable, because if not he shouldn’t be so hesitant and unsure, so unable to proceed what had just happened and, even facing Victor’s personal tragedy, taking pity of himself looking at the sky lightening.

Less than two hours had taken Victor to book a flight, hurriedly pack his suitcases, call a cab and leave, all while trembling and explaining Yuuri the situation with shaking voice. She’d eaten something. Choked maybe? Something bad had happened. Victor’s neighbour took her to a vet and she was to be operated within hours, and Victor wouldn’t be there for her. Victor hadn’t been even trying to hide his guilt and fear. He hadn’t been apologetic. They’d said goodbye to each other, Victor kissed him, for that Yuuri hadn’t known if he’d been allowed to do it himself in the circumstances given, and left the city no longer after. Yuuri had helped him carry his suitcases to the cab, aware he couldn’t go with Victor and that it would change nothing, he’d been still wearing his pyjamas with a hoodie over them, and the while outside made him tremble from freeze.

“I’m sorry.” Victor said before entering the car and Yuuri had no answer to that. He had no right to be angry, and even if, not for Victor. It was Yuuri who’d been given all the time with Victor, Yuuri who kissed him first, Yuuri who emerged into Victor’s life out of nowhere, Yuuri who should have said something a while ago. Victor was ill, after all, he needed help of a psychologist and Yuuri shouldn’t have demanded from him to take the next step, not knowing that. But even so, there was something that was bothering him, something that made him blame Victor, reluctantly but blame, as if it was him who did something wrong in their long distance almost-relationship.

Yuuri couldn’t clear his mind from that thoughts for a while, but when the morning came, when he got ready to leave and his breath slowed down he thought that maybe it was just the early wake up, the worry, the mix of exhaustion and hunger that caused the thoughts, unfunded. So when he left the dorm and the sun was almost there, inviting to start the day, and he took the first sip from him thermic mug, a sip of gingerbread coffee that now tasted like Victor’s kisses, Yuuri focused on surviving the day and cheering Victor up. That he could do, and that he was going to.

* * *

_13th of January, Petersburg_

Unconvinced what had been happening, Lena had taken Makka to the first recommended vet she’d found. Once they’d contacted, Victor had given her directions where to find Makka’s health record documents and the address to her actual vet, who’d been full without an earlier appointment, and sent them back to the emergency clinic. That Victor wouldn’t be there on time to help he knew, but he hadn’t expected Lena’s grandmother to wait the entire day in the clinic. She had.

Victor landed in Pulkovo at three in the morning and, drawing his cap deeper on his head, he was first to leave the plane, his usual chill be damned, and almost jumped out of the sleeve while calling a taxi. Lena had texted him that Makka had woken up and been just fine when he’d been waiting for his transit in Paris, but Victor wouldn’t believe before he saw his girl alive. He got a luggage cart, having too many suitcases to carry them himself without Popo, and headed to the taxi stop, when the phone vibrated in his pocket. Lena. He nearly stopped breathing. Something had happened. Something definitely must have happened, because why would she call him. Something was wrong with Makka.

“Da?” Victor’s attempt to sound casual didn’t help.

“Where are you? I can’t see you.” Lena’s voice was calm, maybe a little annoyed.

“What?” _What?_

“Your flight landed a while ago but you’re nowhere there.” She said.

“I… What?”

“I’m waiting by the west entrance when you’re ready, ok?”

“You’re waiting?” Victor didn’t understand anything of that. Why would she come to get him in the middle of the night? Why would she come at all? They were just neighbours.

“I… I’m coming. Is everything ok with Makka?”

“Generally yes.” Lena said, her voice off.

Victor pushed his cart in the opposite direction than he had before. He reached the west entrance and couldn’t find her there either. Eventually he gave up and called.

“I’m by the entrance. Can’t find you.” He said.

“Are you sure it’s the same entrance? I can’t see you, only a group of backpackers and a weird gu… Oh, is that you in the purple…”

Victor looked around. The woman by the wall was Lena but she looked different. He only ever saw her with her hair up in a bun and usually smart clothes when they were passing each other on the staircase. The few times they met in the evenings she was wearing bright sweatshirts worn out to different levels. And there she was, with her hair loose and messy (Victor had no idea it was so long), she was wearing a black t-shit with a logo that would be much appreciated by Yura.

“Sorry, didn’t recognise you.” Victor said instead of a hello.

Lena looked at him from head to toes.

“Look who’s talking. Is that a disguise?

“K-kind of.” Victor stuttered. He was wearing the exactly same outfit that he’d had on at the ice rink with Yuuri, that he’d changed into in a toilet waiting for his second flight in France, mostly out of paranoia. But Lena didn’t look like herself either. Victor had neither power, nor will, to comment on that. She put on her leather jacket, too light for the freezing weather, and led him outside.

“How is she?” He asked again when they were walking to the parking and Victor shook off the shock of seeing the other side of Lena.

“The vet says she’s stable and the worst part is by, but she’ll have to be on a specific diet for a while. Food from the clinic, nothing from your plate, and control appointments a few more times. That is when they’ll let her out.”

Victor didn’t say anything to that, only shivered under his ugly jacket, feeling all the blame for Makka getting hurt weighing him down. He was the worst, he knew that when everybody seemed to be looking at him judgingly, as if knowing exactly his sin of neglect. His suitcases felt heavier than before when he tried to fit them into Lena’s tiny car and the winter freeze was particularly disturbing. All he deserved.

Indifferent to Victor’s protests, Lena drove him not to the pet clinic but to their building. The argument that Makka was to spend the night in the clinic anyway and Victor looked like he could fall asleep in the middle of the airport when they’d met wasn’t a good excuse in Victor’s opinion, but he didn’t have much to say on that matter. Once they carried his suitcases to the apartment and Lena left he fell asleep in his flight clothes.

* * *

_12th of January, Detroit_

Yuuri had thrown himself into the flow of training from the very morning, his body, used to the constant sleep deprivation, was forgiving, so he could fool Mia that he hadn’t spent half of the night having a mental heart attack. Even better, he was all into dancing and physical exercise, purposefully pushing himself to the point when he was unable to think about anything other than stopping and lying on a flat surface, let’s just run the last quarter of a mile…

The two lectures he had that day didn’t go so brightly, as he couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds after which the memory of Victor nervously squeezing his belongings into a suitcase was haunting his thoughts again, along with the throat-tightening though of Makkachin being in danger. Every now and then Yuuri tried to convince himself that none of his worry would change anything in the situation, but the reasonable thinking failed him more than ever.

And when after Victor’s planned landing in Petersburg Yuuri asked how he was and Victor wasn’t responding for hours, Yuuri reminded himself his own comeback a month earlier and thought that Americans were right and karma, indeed, was a bitch.

* * *

_13th of January, Petersburg_

A pair of shiny black eyes looked at him with a glimpse of recognition and Makka barked shortly and rushed in his direction, as if she was trying to say _See? Everything’s alright! A plastic wrap in my throat? What plastic wrap? What do you mean I won’t have half of your egg?! They’re lying, it was just a ploy to lure you back home…_

Victor hit the floor with his knees and ignored the pain, wrapping arms around Makka’s neck and burring face in her fur. She was alive. She looked fine even! Makka barked again and licked his face. Victor wanted to laugh but instead water collected in his eyes, though now it was tears of relief.

Noon passed a while ago when Victor eventually settled Makka with all her favourite toys on the side of his bedroom and dog-proofed the bags of veterinary food, meant to refill Makka’s bowls only at scheduled times. He breathed deeply when he sat on his bed, luggage waiting to be unpacked standing in his bedroom like a remorse.

Victor unzipped the first suitcase just to do something and withdraw the moment when he’d be forced to make actual actions and decisions that were nowhere near his reach with the mess constantly present in his head for weeks. He wasn’t sure what to do tomorrow. Should he tell others that he was back? Text Yura, call Yakov, calm him down and show he was a responsible adult, only there were some problems with comeback flights? Or just appear at the rink the next morning and act as if nothing had happened and he'd always been there? He didn’t know.

The first portion of laundry was in the washing machine when Victor opened his phone and sat with it on the floor, by his poor girl’s side. Yuuri had finally woken up, but, unfortunately, so did Phichit, and Victor got a dozen of messages asking what had happened and threatening him if he’d hurt Yuuri. Oh, and by the way, if Victor had forgotten, he owned him a hamster.

With his sleeping schedule screwed for good coming to the ice rink at four in the morning was easy. His old key switched smoothly in the back door so he pushed in and entered nothingness. He locked the door and slowly made a few steps in the dark until he reached the corner. The rest of the corridor was illuminated by the dim glimmer of street lights. Victor was watching his own long shadow every time he was passing a window, the action childish and unsuited to his public persona, a little voice in his head whispered.

He pushed another door and entered the rink, no colder than the rest of the building with the heating off, but testifying its realness with the unique smell, made of tones that Victor never could have told apart, but only there they could be smelled together. Welcoming at home and safety, which Victor couldn’t quite feel that moment.

It was all as it’d used to be, all perfect and satisfying his fondness of things being put together and aesthetically pleasing, soothing his nerves that till not long ago he hadn’t been aware of having. At the rink everything was just right, just as it’d always been, expect of one factor that Victor hadn’t foreseen, one element ruining the perfect picture in his head. Him. Victor. He was no more the perfect, shiny person, as if made to fill in the space and add up to the silent splendour of the moment, intimate in the way that it was only meant for himself. He was no more perfect, not even superficially, he realised, because his inner self, his up to date muffled, stifled by layers of disguises self, was popping through and he couldn’t fit it inside anymore. It was slowly breaking free, and for Victor it felt ugly.

But there was nothing he could do about it then, so he swallowed hardly, tightened his laces enough to jump whatever he wanted, which after two weeks of break cut in his fingers. The usually slightly hardened skin in a few places he was sliding the laces through softened within the two weeks enough to cause a pinch of discomfort, just like Victor had softened enough to feel out of place.

The discomfort, feeling of isolation from the world and the place, his place, disappeared the moment he stepped on the ice, the familiar set up soothing his nerves. It was comfortable, stable, whatever Yuuri was saying. Victor, familiar with the surface probably more that with any solid ground, maybe with the little exception of his own apartment, finally felt like the master of his fate, making tiny changes in his posture and angling blades instinctively. He couldn’t remind himself anymore how it’d been to feel the ice was slippery, how it felt not to be able to control it completely, to own it.

He wished he could have learned the same trick with life.

Victor left the rink an hour later, giving himself a margin of time to scat before the first workers came for the morning shift. He took the longer way and called Yuuri, mindful that in an hour or so his beloved human being would be asleep for the night. The Japanese was concerned at first, knowing what time it was in Russia, but Victor quickly calmed him down, prattling about Makka’s wellbeing, promising to send Yuuri indecent amount of his girl’s photos and listening to a throughout description of Yuuri’s day, which was like honey poured directly onto Victor’s little, wretched heart. And, by the way, asking for a little favour. Well, not so little, probably.

By the time they hung up six in the morning passed and Victor, content, entered the nearby bakery, where instead to buying a loaf of rye bread he asked for something sweet, promising himself it would be his last cheat meal of the season. The few falls from the morning that shouldn’t have happened in the first place were flagged in his head like a warning sign and it was a matter of days when he’d found more boxes on his doorstep.

* * *

_14th of January, Detroit_

The aisle with sweets was blinding Yuuri with all the colourful wrappings and the insane variety of flavour combinations, and it was only the first of a few. The aisle was strictly forbidden for him to enter, because Yuuri had an unhealthy need to try everything his eyes lied onto, maybe acquainted when he was little and Pokémon had been at the peak of their glory, so Yuuri just had try them all, every taste of every chocolate bar and every… That, obviously, hadn’t end up well, and starting from his second year in Detroit he’d stopped even entering the candy aisles to avoid the temptation.

But now he was justified, and tried to decide between two different types of cookies. Eventually, resigned, he put both boxes into his cart and continued. He had to sort the sweets by the register and left some of them, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stuff them into a single box, not to mention the shipping costs, when a familiar voice squeaked his name.

“Yuuri!” Mia approached him, holding a still empty basket. “Are you kidding me? Our final is in a _month_! You can’t eat that!”

Yuuri sighed, aware that Mia had all the reasons to suspect he was going to consume the food himself.

“It’s not for me.” He said quickly. “It’s for a friend.”

“For a friend my ass! You can’t buy it.” Mia moaned and took the first thing within her reach from the counter, which was a bulk package of Hershey’s chocolate that must have contain an insane amount of calories. Yuuri jerked it from her hands and put in back on the counter.

“I told you it’s not for me. Ask Peach if you think I can’t be trusted.”

Mia glanced at him.

“Of course you can’t be trusted.” She crossed her hands. “Fine, but put on one pound this month and I’m coming for your ass.”

“Doesn’t Thomas have something to say on that matter?”

Mia snorted and turned around to go her way, so most probably to the fruit aisle.

“One pound!” She called, not looking back.

Yuuri moaned and put away one particular package of marshmallows that was meant for himself. Without both Victor and candy, the two things that had the power to promptly increase his blood sugar whenever he needed it, and with the graduation right behind the corner, it was going to be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! Hey ho, is there anybody who remembers this exits? :D
> 
> I'm reaaaally sorry for the long break! I've even written a longer apology, but now I don't feel like posting it, sorry D: Long story short, last months were mentally intense for me (for all of as I think) and in the end polishing Minakoless takes some free mental space too (this is what happens when you put the characters through a lot of shit I guess)
> 
> Anyway, now without worry I can say that I'm back on updating every 1-2 weeks, so yaaay, let's complete this fic \o/


	18. Horror and pineapple

_14th od January, Petersburg_

When he was little, Victor had happened to have nightmares, occasionally, in which he was the biggest disappointment, everybody was looking at him with pity and Yakov was yelling that he’d been the worst student he’d ever had. As far away in the past as they were, Victor could still recall the few nights when he’d woken up wet, terrified and exhausted, only to find out it was little after midnight and he was safe in his own bed. He remembered the humiliating fear peeking from the dreams, making him too embarrassed to tell somebody about them.

Nevertheless, none of the dreams prepared Victor for the horror of waking up in his own apartment, in his private bedroom, and in his very private bed, with Yakov sitting by his side and staring at him judgingly, hands crossed on his chest. Suddenly countless outwardly unrelated details were flicking through his head, like that installing a door chain would actually be an excellent idea, and that the puff pastry crumbs on the plate he’d left in the sink were an incriminating evidence of his dietary misdeed, and oh, oh!, he was in Petersburg and hadn’t bothered to inform Yakov, and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as cunning as he liked to think.

Because Yakov was here, catching him maybe not red-handed but at least in person, desecrating his privacy and being stubbornly quiet. The last thing was the worst. Victor could deal with infuriated Yakov perfectly well, answering with laughter and pretending he didn’t care, but he had no idea how to dodge his coach sitting silently in the middle of his intimacy. He pinched himself, for a trial, but Yakov was still sitting on the side of his bed, mixed emotions were passing his eyes set on Victor, making him more and more uncomfortable, and tightening his jaw muscles, as if he was only so little from bursting out screaming. Victor would prefer it that way.

“Why are you here?” Victor finally dared to ask, convinced he wouldn’t stand the silence a second longer.

Something changed on Yakov’s face, something that Victor couldn’t name, and the older man hesitated as if he, too, didn’t know why he came here. A muscle twitched on his mouth and Victor realised that Yakov didn’t know what to say which was unlike him. Formulating sharp comments was for the old coach like breathing and now he was stuck in the silence between them.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re back?”

“Because…” Victor hesitated.

Because he didn’t know how to.

Because he felt ashamed.

Because with every passing day he was more and more afraid of looking into Yakov’s eyes.

Because they’d had a fight in Yekaterinburg and, even though they talked after that, none of them apologised.

Because he was too scared that there will be something wrong with Makka.

“I came back only last night and I needed to rest.” As if he hadn’t wasted two weeks on resting, Yakov’s eyes were saying. “How did you know I was back?”

And there it was. A familiar face. Yakov’s irritation in its full glory. Victor almost giggled.

“Are you even serious asking, Vitya?”

“Yes? I didn’t tell anybody…”

“And how many people do you think have spare keys to the rink, moron?”

Victor opened his mouth but didn’t found any words, so he just bit his lip.

“But I know it’s not just me…” He protested after a while.

“You didn’t even have the decency to inform the technicians and there was no one in the morning who actually can clean the ice.”

Of all scenarios of informing Yakov that he was back in Russia leaving used up ice for the morning shaft without saying a word was an option that hadn’t even passed Victor’s mind. And it was worse than anything he made up himself, as it was rude and bombastic, pretentious just the way the public eye believed Victor was. Why hadn’t he thought about it a few hours earlier he didn’t know, but now that Yakov appeared here it seemed obvious that skating at night was a dead giveaway. He’s life wasn’t a fairy tale in which he could go skating every night and the ice would magically fix itself till the morning and Victor knew that. It was just all the other things happening around him, and the blessedly anonymous skating time in Detroit, that the tiny little detail must have escaped his mind.

Victor felt a pressure in his head and it had nothing to do with sleeping for too short. It was the helplessness that after reaching a certain level with his skating he hoped he would never feel again, but recently the feeling was coming back on a daily basis.

“I’m sorry.” was all that he had power to say. He wasn’t even sure for what was he sorry at that point. For the ice? For their fight after nationals? For leaving without a world? For not bothering to inform he was back? For all of those?

Yakov’s eyes stayed stiff on him and Victor wanted him to say something, wanted to hear that, despite all those smaller and bigger whims he’d allowed himself to do he was still welcome, still valid in the unforgiving world of scoring, coolness and early mornings, but that never came.

“Get dressed.” Yakov said eventually, got up and went to the kitchen, living Victor not just alone in his bedroom but also alone with his thoughts. And if dressing up took him longer than it should because he had to take extra time to dry his tears, the old coach would never know.

Yakov insisted that Victor left his car and when they were stuck in the morning traffic in Yakov’s Victor stubbornly sat quiet. But the old coach didn’t seem to mind, listing everything that Victor had to catch up with, confirming his fears about the boxes being back in the menu and ensuring him that he wouldn’t have to worry too much because before Europeans he would only have enough free time to shower and sleep. And that if he would do well.

So Victor, obviously, entered the rink gloomy like never, hardly smiling to the receptionist that he’d usually chat with and saying nothing to other athletes training in the club. He just followed Yakov to the rink, removed his outwear and went to the locker room. But before he reached the door a series of yells forced him to stop.

“Viiityaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” Mila was running to him. Well, running as much as guarded skates allowed that. “Where is my bribe?”

_Oh-hoh_, Victor thought. Mila couldn’t be bothered by such insignificant things like Victor’s existential crisis.

“It’s… on its way.” Victor said, quietly congratulating himself that he remembered at least about this one thing.

Mila licked her lips.

“I can’t wait.”

Victor snorted.

“You better be careful or Yakov will sign you up to the disgusting box subscription.”

Mila served him her pretended outrage.

“You don’t say such things to women, you know? And after all I did to keep covering you!”

At that Victor giggled, for the first time this morning.

“Fine, fine. The package was so big I had to have it shipped separately.”

Mila squeaked the way suited rather for a little girl that a grown up woman and went back to the rink before Yakov could yell at her. Teenagers…

After the morning wake up affair Victor made sure that Yakov would find him again only on the ice, because he had an unpleasant feeling that otherwise he’d end up in the coach’s office first. And Victor didn’t feel ready for that.

Superficially nothing changed in their training regime, as Yakov was always yelling at him and Victor often just going to his part of the rink and executing whatever it was, but now it felt different. Not willing but forced, as Victor wasn’t in a mood to add even a tiniest bit of response and with every passing moment he knew the break was too long and it will take time to regain his previous confidence in the programs. And Europeans were in two weeks.

So, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, he ended up in Yakov’s office anyway.

* * *

_14th of January, Detroit_

Phichit was looking sceptically at the four bags of candy that Yuuri just came back with after another super market escapade.

“Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?”

Yuuri shook his head and started putting the candy into a huge, still half empty shipping box on his bed.

“No. He told me he’d sent money for that so I thought maybe he wanted a lot, but he sent the equivalence of my last summer job salary and… Why did you do that?”

Phichit just performed a textbook example of a facepalm and sat on his bed.

“Don’t ask.” He said.

“By the way, Victor said that part of the money is to buy you two new hamsters.” Yuuri said, still hoping he just misheard. Four hamsters were more than enough for the tiny space.

That, however, caught Phichit’s attention.

“Really? We have to go then! What’s the budget?”

Yuuri sighed.

“Hold on, I have to post the package first.” Yuuri emptied the fourth bag and the box was finally full, he even had two boxes of cookies that by no means could be fitted in left. Biting his lip, he leaned to his nightstand drawer and took out the pink and purple poodle phone case.

“What is it?” Phichit asked.

“I… Ugh… I bought if for Victor at the airport in Tallinn and I told him I’d give it to him if he’ll come here and then we both kinda… Forgot.”

Phichit needed a second to process the information but once he did he burst out laughing.

“OH MY GOOOD! You really are worth of each other!”

“That’s not… I mean. I don’t know if I should ship it with the candy or not.”

“That depends…” Phichit said philosophically “…if you want to have matching phone cases with your boyfriend or you want to pretend it’s nothing forever.”

Yuuri sighed and put the phone case on top of the candy.

“And not that I want to suggest anything or give your unexperienced ass any advice, but If I were you I’d totally top it with one of the photos Angela ordered for you. Signed and kissed.”

“Peach…”

“Don’t say it. I’ll go and borrow some nice bright red lipstick.” Phichit winked and disappeared in the hall, leaving Yuuri with a weird feeling that it wasn’t the best idea.

* * *

_14th of January, Petersburg_

In Yuuri’s presence Victor’s time perception was lost which made the days he had left to train before Europeans suddenly shrunk into less than two weeks. Less than t w o w e e k s! And if Victor, even with his general form a little bit dropped, wasn’t sure of his win, he might have even panicked. Luckily for him the panicking one was Yakov, because there was only so many of it his brain could produce that he used up on Makka.

To his disappointment visiting his Yuuri didn’t soothe Victor’s heart. Rather than this, it whipped up his guilt for lying to him and, once Victor was back, made him long even more now that he experienced what he was longing. There was also another type of guilt for not being able satisfy Yuuri’s obvious desires that Victor could swear he shared whenever he thought of Yuuri and at the same time… he didn’t. At some point he stopped to… lust. There was desire, in a way, but Victor realised that he had absolutely zero sexual drive considering Yuuri, and now, when he was sitting in his bed and looking with a content smile at the two gigantic prints of Yuuri stretching on a pole he was seeing beauty, yet all the sinful thoughts he couldn’t have shoved out of his mind when he was looking at Yuuri’s photos in the Eros album disappeared.

Victor frowned, staring at the posters as if they were the ones lying to him and wondered what was wrong. Some worrisome ideas passed his mind, like messed up hormone levels, blood tests and micronutrients deficiencies which shouldn’t have occurred this close to a competition. Which lead his thoughts back to Yakov, and again to the wall, and Victor realised that this morning Yakov not only invaded him in sleep but also must have seen the posters that no one but Victor was meant to see. At least he wouldn’t tell anyone, Victor thought, digging back into his tasteless dinner.

The next morning the package with food boxes left by his door was extraordinarily big as for one person, but the mystery was quickly solved at the rink. Yakov informed him that he ordered the last two meals doubled as Yuri was coming over for the movies and he, too, wasn’t supposed to eat take out. Which was fair, only Victor had forgotten about the Friday set up yet again.

He took Makka for an early walk that was supposed to be short right after her surgery, but Makka had other idea and was desperate to sniff every inch of suspiciously smelling sidewalk on her way, ignoring the coldness outside. Their walk turned from short to almost an hour long and when they came back Yuri must have already come in because the doorknob was open. But the voice coming from the other side wasn’t Yuri’s. It was loud and female, not really matching Lena either.

Victor pushed the door open, hoping there wasn’t a breaking-in, or that he wasn’t losing what was left of his mind, ignoring that both options were kind of excluding each other, and saw a red head disappearing in his bedroom door. Oh. No.

“Guys, you have to see this!” The female voice said, and now it became obvious that the voice belonged to Mila. _Mila_.

Next person Victor noticed was Georgi sitting on the sofa, legs crossed in front of him and seemingly having no intention to follow Mila and make a further disturb in Victor’s privacy. Maybe because, unlike for Mila, it wasn’t the first time Georgi was in Victor’s apartment and didn’t feel the need to act like he entered a museum. Or because, like Victor, he was an adult and had some dignity to begin with, but lately Victor was learning that age had nothing to do with any of those.

“See what?” And there was Yuri, whom Victor was going to crush for letting the other two in, but that later. The teenager turned from the kitchen drawer where Victor kept their favourite take out leaflets and his eyes met Victor’s.

Victor expected him to startle, to look guilty, to say “I can explain.” in a tone suggesting that, no, there was no way he could explain that, and that Yuri would shrunk and realise the big mistake he made.

Instead of that, Yuri glared at him.

“Finaly. What took you so long?” he asked, eyes switching from Victor back to the nearby pizzeria leaflet. The exact one that had nothing to do with Italian cuisine and came with an obscene amount of mayo based souses. No… Which time this evening?

Victor grabbed Yuri’s arm and tagged him to the front door.

“Why did you bring them here?” He whispered the same moment Mila left his bedroom.

“I had to. Mila, she…” Yuri’s face got red. “…she black-mailed me.”

“What?!”

“Vityaaa!” Mila yelled from the other side, pretending Victor wasn’t in the middle of mocking Yuri. “We were waiting so long!”

Victor ignored her.

“Is she bulling you or…”

Yuri made an anguished face.

“She has the video of me doing… You know.” Yuri eventually said, and his eyes were begging Victor not to ask what video. And Victor realised he already knew what video anyway.

“Ok…” Victor said slowly. “But still, why did you bring them here? What for?”

Yuri quite quickly forgot about being threatened by Mila and not acting out of his will.

“What what for? You disappear for weeks and act like stupid and in love with the Katsudon Guy ignoring everything and everybody and you think we’re gonna act like nothing happened?” Yuri jerked his shoulder from Victor’s hand and sat next to Georgi. “Like hell we will!”

“Guys, don’t fight!” Mila said and joined them on the sofa, sitting on the back. “We just wanted to know what’s on with you and you’re impossible to talk to at the rink with Yak yelling at you AND everybody who dares to talk to you, and then you disappear.” Mila rolled her eyes, as if suggesting Victor was the one acting like a dumb kid. “And you ignore our group chat!” In Mila’s mouth this sounded like the most serious accusation of them all.

“But I don’t ignore it.” Victor protested. “You just don’t use it anymore.”

This time it was Georgi who looked surprised.

“They don’t use it? You don’t know the hour of the night when…”

“No?” Victor took his phone and opened Messenger. “S…” He didn’t end the sentence. “Oh. I’ve forgotten to switch accounts.”

“You kept in on your official for two days straight?” Mila rose an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” _Nope_. He just kept it on Poodlove to talk with Yuuri and somehow logged out of everything else and didn’t notice. But Mila didn’t have to know that. “You have no life.” He said, seeing over two thousands new messages on _The Petition To Vitya To Get His Shit Together_. As well as a three digit number by the chat with Chris.

“Look who’s talking! Mister I’m Obsessive About One Man So I’ll Ruin My Life In Order to Follow Him?” Mila said that in a humorous way, but Victor didn’t find it funny. Not at all. “And we have the right to be…”

“Guys?” Yura tried to cut in.

“How dare you make scenarios for me and Yuuri when I’m not there?” Victor squeaked, reaching a part of the chat that made him particularly uncomfortable.

“…worried about you when you disappear like that!”

“Guys!”

“Oh, this one is actually nice, we should do this!” Probably because it wasn’t Chris’ idea, he didn’t say loud.

“Guys!”

Georgi grunted meaningfully and Victor stopped scrolling through the chat.

“What?”

“If you and Mila won’t stop getting excited about your love life for a second there will be pineapple on every pizza little Yuri orders.” Georgi pointed at Yura with phone already pressed to his ear.

“No!” Mila squeaked and tried to took the phone over from Yura. Which wasn’t hard because Yura was busy with cursing Georgi for calling him little.

And Victor? Victor leaned to finally take off is shoes and was calculating how long he’d be able to stay away from pizza. Maybe the pineapple wasn’t such a bad idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pineapple-on-pizza-neutral, but whatever.
> 
> I don't have too much to add under this chapter, only that I know Messenger isn’t the only app and I’m aware there’s Line and also sth popular in Russia which name I can’t recall now, but it’s completely irrelevant for the story and to simplify (and save myself research) I decided it’s just Instagram and Messenger. ^^” (And I’m the worst at using most of social media and communicators other than Messenger anyway)
> 
> And before I go I have to confess that, despite not updating Minakoless for ages, a while ago I started posting another silly rom-com YoI fic which, completely by accident, in many ways is a negative of this one and all chapters are 1k or less (which I have to admit happens to be challenging). I decided to unanon it today, and you can read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118562/chapters/55316347) /o\ and judge me for having no self-control
> 
> Till next time!


	19. Name it

_The second half of January, Detroit_

Once the semester fully started Yuuri’s life became a horror movie. Or a cheesy romantic comedy for teenagers was it? He felt as if he was the handsome, popular guy, which alone was ridiculous, in one of the romance stories for young girls, a bad and stereotypical one. Considering how many people were following him to, within and from the campus, the prints Angela had ordered for him might have come handy, if only Yuuri wasn’t too embarrassed to hand them to women much younger than him and whom he saw for the first time, he was sure of that. And actually remembered to carry them around…

His friends, obviously, were crackling at any occasion.

Mia gained a group of new friends and Yuuri couldn’t get why she was tolerating them, for that the only reason they were hanging out with Mia was to get information about Yuuri. Which Mia wasn’t sharing, most of the time. The thing was - the campus didn’t know Yuuri had a boyfriend. Neither did Mia. Ketty knew, yes, but Ketty was a polar opposite of Mia’s character, so it was safe to tell her. And Mia? Yuuri wasn’t sure. Even if not purposefully, there were too many chances she’d spill it up by accident.

Yuuri was putting up with that only because he knew he was going to graduate soon. His tenancy agreement was till the end of March, but his only commitments would end in February and he’d be free to go, preferably somewhere where no one knew him.

So the good news that came in the form of Esca calling him at three in the morning, before he got the chance not only to open, but even get the official e-mail, really cheered him up. He got the role in the summer show. He’s enthusiasm cooled only a little when Esca told him they were going to train not in Russia but France, but it was still so much closer to Victor than Detroit. Yuuri called him right after, and though the talk was short and Victor seemed tired, he was also happy for him.

Although he thought he would enjoy the perspective of some free time on his own for the first time in his life, getting a job for the upcoming months was a weight from his shoulders that Yuuri hadn’t even known was there. That, or the fact that, after all, he had an excuse to be closer to Petersburg, even if this didn’t mean anything.

* * *

_22nd of January, Petersburg_

The box Yuuri had sent him exceeded Victor’s expectations at least a few times in size, so except making mess in his apartment and tempting himself with calories, he packed the whole thing into his car and took it to the rink the next day. He only didn’t considered that with Yuuri he should have expected some customised… extras.

Staying in the training facilities after Yakov had already left home wasn’t anything suspicious, not with the training regimen the coach put on him, so he waited half an hour after Yakov had left before he even brought the box in, assisted by Georgi and accompanied by Mila’s loud cheerleading.

“Come on, open it!” Mila squeaked when they put the box at the entrance to the gym (Victor was mindful that Yakov, after all, might come back to check on them, and he wasn’t that stupid to carry _that_ anywhere near the rink) with a thump.

Victor looked judgingly at the layers of tape and some kind of cable tie tightly wrapped around the cardboard.

“Do we have scissors?” He asked, expecting what he’d hear.

“You’re _always_ forgetting something, old man.” Yura said.

“Yakov has one in his office.” Georgi shrugged.

“We’re not breaking into his office.” Victor moaned, slightly resigned. He would, actually, if he wasn’t already on the top of Yakov’s black list.

“Even when sneaking in candy you’re no fun.” Mila whined.

“Go ask in the…”

“We can use Victor’s skates to…”

“Move away, amateurs.” Mila ordered and squatted in front of the box with a regular door key.

Yura was still suggesting using Victor’s skates when the cable ties were already disarmed and Mila was cutting the tape with her key in one smooth move.

“Amateurs.” She repeated, eyeing Victor and Georgi. “Give them a bottle of beer and they’ll open it with a piece of paper, but give them a closed box of food and they’ll starve to death.”

Victor rolled his eyes the same moment Georgi shrugged and Mila finally revealed the contents of the package. It took them a short while to process what they saw, because at first they were blinded with colourful packets, but on top of them, moved to the side but still noticeable, was a printed cut from the music video in which Yuuri was making a complicated pose.

Georgi whistled and Victor wanted to grab the photo, but Mila was first to take the paper and look closely.

“I need to show this to Chris!” She said and Victor took advantage from the moment she reached for her phone and took it from her.

“I’ll take it.” He said and pressed the paper to his chest to protect it from Mila.

“Hey, old man! This also _must_ be for you!” Yura said and throw something at Victor.

Victor nearly dropped the photo catching the thing, but he smiled when he noticed a pattern of purple poodles on pink background. Wow, he really was forgetful when Yuuri was nearby.

“What’s that?” Mila asked immediately.

“Just a trashy phone case.” Yura said from his place by the box from which he was picking what looked best before Mila would realise what he was doing.

“You’ve got a spot on your coat.” Georgi said, pointing at Victor’s chest.

Victor looked down. Indeed, there was a bright red spot where he was pressing Yuuri’s photo a while earlier, showing off a lot on his beige duster. He looked at the photo again and only now noticed what must have been a lipstick imprint in the corner.

“I’m screaming!” Mila said, grinning. “This is even better than the rest of the delivery.”

“No you’re not, stupid hag.” Yura pointed from his spot on the floor.

“That’s a…”

Victor rose the two things and stared at them, feeling a smile growing on his face, a warm one, for the surprise. Maybe he should have checked what was inside first, but did that really matter? His friends, Mila and Chris to be precise, by the time had advanced in unrealistic assumptions concerning him and Yuuri much below the level of sending Victor half nude, kissed photos. So at the end of the day, he didn’t care.

He took his two new treasures and left his friends with the box of candy suddenly convinced he didn’t need any. And if he heard Mila saying “He’s really love sick.” and Georgi responding “Told you.” He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was his own subconscious talking to him.

* * *

_22nd of January, Detroit_

The calmness after getting the news about being hired didn’t last long, because a single week didn’t pass before madam Lilia sent Yuuri a general outline of the choreography and what the team expected from him when they start in Paris, so he had to add extra hours of training to his already tight schedule. Not to mention the upcoming mess with moving places.

With Mia being an unforgiving partner, their teachers trying to polish them to perfection before letting them go to the world with diploma, only weird hours when he could actually talk to Victor and the crowds of so called fans following him wherever he moved, Yuuri gave up on establishing an actual routine and focused on surviving till the end of semester. And, on top of that, keep his body in a perfect condition. Easier say than do.

One evening after a particularly long day, that he started and ended when the sun was hidden behind the horizon, he came back to the dorm to see Phichit plotting with Angela, who was trying to disguise herself and acting as if she was paying visit not to them but to Phichit’s hamsters.

“What’s up?” Yuuri asked before he threw himself onto his own bed, needing to rest a while to be able to as little as heat his dinner.

“You’re impossible to call to so I came.” And just like that Angela stopped even pretending she wasn’t here because of a reason.

“I had classes.” Yuuri said, looking at the ceiling rather than at her, and yawned.

“And when he doesn’t have classes there’s somebody else Yuuri prefers to talk to.” Phichit giggled.

Yuuri would throw a pillow at him, if only he’d had the power to do so.

“Anyway” Angela said and put away a hamster “I was wondering if you don’t want to come back to the club and have a class, or two, at the weekends?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“No. And why? Are you leaving again?”

Angela laughed nervously.

“No, not for a while. But, you see, after the release more people want to sign up for the beginner course. And some of those who came when I was home asked about you.”

“No, no, and no.” Yuuri said. “That’s none of my business, Ang. And I don’t have time to sleep now because of you and Esca so no, I won’t help.”

“But Yuu-ri!”

“Aren’t you just trying to grow your student base before I leave?”

Angela snorted.

“Of course I do!” _She didn’t even have the decency to deny,_ Yuuri thought. “I made you!” _Fair enough._

Yuuri yawned.

“Then advertise yourself as my creator.” He murmured and hugged his pillow. Just for a while. He was joking. Joking, right? And sure Angela knew he was. But why didn’t she laugh?

* * *

_23rd of January, Petersburg_

_“Who’s the good girl? Who’s the best girl? Who’s the cutest doggy? Yeah, of course you are, you’re the cutest doggy!”_

Woof-woof. Makka tried to answer, staring and Yuuri’s face on the screen as if she knew he was talking about her. Woof-woof. _Of course it’s me. I’m the best of best doggies! See? The moron wouldn’t have survived a single day without me!_ Woof-woof!

Victor put his cup by the screen on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, feeling there were muscles in his body the way he shouldn’t have felt, but grinned to the screen.

“Yuuri!” He chirped, seeing his beloved human even on the screen making him forget most of the inconveniences of the day.

_“Are you ok? You look tired.”_ Yuuri said, leaning to the screen, so for a while Victor could only see a part of his forehead.

“I… Mm… Yura has a competition this week, so it’s quite busy here.” Victor said and took a sip from his cup, burning his tongue with hot tea. Change the topic, change the topic, quickly, change the topic… “Besides, look who’s talking.” He said. “Do you even sleep anymore?”

_“Barely.”_ Yuuri admitted. _“I’m graduating in a few weeks and madam Lilia sent her own training program to do a few times a week. And in the free time I try to hide from fans.”_ Yuuri made an apostrophe with his fingers.

“You’re not hiding form me.” Victor grinned wider.

On the other side of the ocean Yuuri crossed his arms.

_“You’re not my fan.”_

“Of course I am.” Victor said. “I’d even dare to say I’m your biggest fan. I was chatting on the forum that Phichit made the other day and…”

_“Do I really wanna know?”_

Victor tapped his lips with a finger.

“No, probably.” He admitted, minding how Yuuri reacted to anything that suggested he was extraordinary. “But if I’m not your fan who am I then?” Victor asked and glued his eyes to Yuuri.

Yuuri, who bit his lip, looked to the side and blushed so much Victor could see this even by the poor quality video. It took him a while to answer, suddenly cornered.

Victor wanted to ask that for a while, but he never dared, or there hadn’t been an opportunity, or he was too scared, or they were changing topics. But when he opened the box of candy, when he picked the photo, unlike the CD without a single word, just with the kiss in the corner, when he hang his duster decorated with red lipstick that Victor never was going to remove on his wardrobe door, when he left his friends at the rink because suddenly he wanted to run home and scream and hug Makka, and was so excited he forgot he’d come by car that day, Victor knew he would have to ask, eventually. It was becoming too much. All the little hints, advances and understatements were driving him crazy.

And he knew they shouldn’t. He knew he was the vague one, a sneaky liar too afraid to reveal himself, but just one more week, he was always thinking, after the final, after nationals, after Europeans, after…

_“I… Umm… That is…”_ Yuuri started, still not looking neither at his screen nor the camera. He laughed nervously and looked up, first at Victor, than up, as if he was trying to look into his eyes, and took a deep breath. _“I thought that we’re a couple.”_ He said and looked back at Victor, waiting for his reaction.

Victor would lie yet another time if he said he wasn’t waiting for that. Still, Yuuri’s words made him speechless for a moment. Too long moment, because Yuuri’s face dropped before Victor said anything, which sobered him just enough.

“Of course.” Victor said and smiled back. “Of course we are.”

Yuuri looked up at him with a face saying _really?_, as if he too wasn’t so sure of that, and Victor couldn’t help laughing.

“Yeah, really. After the extra you put in the candy package that I considered safe for _children_ and let my ri… friends open themselves they won’t stop calling you my boyfriend.” Yasss, Vitya, you said that out loud! “I mean, even Yura admitted that, and he kind of hates the idea of us being together, so…”

_“That’s… right.”_ Yuuri said._ “I just… We kind of never talked about it.”_

“I’m not good at talking… about it.”_ I’m good at skating about it, but can’t tell you that._

_“You’re… better than me.”_ Yuuri said.

_And you’re good at dancing about it, but I won’t tell you that either. Not now, anyway._ Victor thought.

“But…”

_“But?”_ Yuuri asked.

“But that doesn’t change anything about the fact I’m your biggest fan!” Victor grinned.

Yuuri hid face in his hands, but Victor could see he was smiling.

Victor closed the laptop half an hour later to half a cup of forgotten, cold tea waiting at the coffee table and Makka sleeping on his legs. He put the computer aside and stared to the space in front of him. He pinched himself. Nothing happened. He did it again. Nothing.

He went to kitchen and turned on the kettle to make himself a fresh cup of tea. He was observing the vapour escaping the electric kettle but couldn’t concentrate, went to the kitchen window but it was completely dark outside.

The water still didn’t boil so he went to the bathroom, as if to check if everything was in its place, but nothing had changed, then made a round through the bedroom, not knowing why.

The water still didn’t boil. He took out a clean cup and placed a teabag inside, then made the few steps back to the sofa and looked down at the coffee table where he left the photo Yuuri had sent him, and then it hit him.

He jumped over the sofa screaming _Yes!_ and waking up Makka who barked, as if agreeing with him. The boiling water echoed them.

* * *

_23rd of January, Detroit_

The moment they ended the chat Yuuri shut his laptop and leaned his head back on the wall. He didn’t know what he had expected, but the fact the ceiling was still right above his head, with a little bit of paint peeling from in the corner as always, almost surprised him. He didn’t feel like it was there. He felt as if the entire universe suddenly opened above his head, making everything seem deeper and causing his heartbeat reach the rate it usually had at the end of a class.

It felt so weird to just sit here and stare at the ceiling when he wanted to run out to the cold afternoon and flounder through the snow without purpose. To do whatever. Because then, when they’d been wrapped in each other but not naming it, Yuuri could still convince himself that it would pass, that it wasn’t permanent. They were adults and adults sometimes were doing things that weren’t meant to be forever.

But now? Now Yuuri was sitting here, back cuddled to the wall, and wondering if Victor, too, shut his laptop and couldn’t contain himself anymore, or did he just shrugged and continued living? For the first time thinking about it Yuuri didn’t feel like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, he weren’t invited to, because wasn’t Victor his, in a way?

But why now? Why only now when they were so far away from each other, when he couldn’t touch, kiss the chapped lips and warm the cold nose, why now when Yuuri wanted to drown in the arms, and more, so much more. Maybe it was better that way, because he wanted so, and Victor didn’t. But what if he did? What if he needed the two extra weeks to put it together, what if he was here? What if nothing happened there? Would he visit him in France now that they… That they…

When a wave of notifications from Phichit beeping from his phone woke him up Yuuri was surprised. Not that he nearly overslept, but that he managed to fall asleep at all. But when he took the phone to tell Phichit to stop, Victor’s face smiling over a cup of coffee greeted him, and Phichit went forgotten.

* * *

_27th of January, Bratislava_

He was tired. Since the rainy Monday that they landed in Bratislava everything seemed sudden and hectic, giving Victor no space to rest or hang around the city with the others.

Right before leaving he’d been afraid of the inevitable confrontation with Chris, but that never happened. They barely had time to talk to each other during breakfast, not with Victor’s tight graphic, and Victor realised he’d been actually looking forward to that as much as he feared it. Even if Chris was a traitorous blackmailer acting as if Victor was a kid that needed to be handled with an extra dose of care, he was the only person whom Victor trusted enough to tell about the skype talk, which stayed only between him and Yuuri. And if Chris had already heard about it from Fruit Boy, Victor couldn’t care less. Chris owned him after all the times Victor had had to listen about his affairs.

Due to an unfortunate twist of fate men’s short and free were scheduled at the beginning of Europeans, one day after another, so none of them had time for discussing Victor’s love life. It was as if their coaches made an agreement to keep them busy and away from each other up until after free programs. Victor couldn’t wait for the moment.

Unlike at their home rink, in Bratislava Yakov kept being almost polite to Victor. Maybe because before he’d been ignored by Victor no matter how much he yelled, maybe because he didn’t want to appear that angry in front of other people, or maybe because, unlike in Petersburg, Lilia was right behind his back the entire time. It was harder to ignore polite, even if only superficially, Yakov, so somehow they reached a point of stiff but present communication. To anyone who was familiar with the environment their behaviour must have been very suspicious, but they should mind their own business. On the outside, they were acceptable.

And like that Victor didn’t even notice when all the time had passed and he was leaning to check on his laces, because no matter what he could swear his skates were too loose by toes, and waiting for the announcer to call his name. Maybe it was better that way. Better than the time in Barcelona when he couldn’t have found his place and had been constantly waiting for something to happen. Better than having too much time to spare on worrying about Makka and nursing his guiltiness.

“…and now, representing Russia, Victor…”

Victor took a deep breath, glued a smile to his face and went to the gate. His job was calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now Victor has his private low calorie Candy and can finally focus on proper diet (and seriously, I have a lot of [Electric Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYr96YYEaZY) feelings when writing this, probably for no reason)
> 
> bye bye messing around and pretending it's not real, Yuuri
> 
> Fun fact, but after Barcelona I go by actual competition timetables and locations for 2015/16 (because I'm too lazy to make up my own schedule :v) and the short and free by some miracle were scheduled perfectly to go with my plot ._.
> 
> I had the moments when I though that yeah, this would fit below 50k, then 100k, and at this point I can only happily announce that now for sure we're at least half way through, yaaay \o/
> 
> I've been wanting to post the upcoming chapter forever, so I only hope I won't catch editing depression and decide and rewrite the whole thing, wish me luck with that /o\
> 
> Anyway, (hope to) see you soon! ♥ (or even sooner if you so sweet and leave a comment that I always respond to ;>)


	20. Falling Star

_2nd of February, Petersburg_

_** End of the Living Legend’s Era?** _

_Last evening we witnessed the first fall of the ruling man’s singles figure skating Russian star Victor Nikiforov. Since his win at Europeans in 2009, settled one year later with his second Olympic gold in Vancouver, Nikiforov didn’t give up a single gold medal in any competition he appeared at. After his record breaking short program in Barcelona two months ago, where he defended his sixth consecutive senior Grand Prix gold and stable performances during Russian Nationals, Nikiforov was the highest betted competitor for Europeans, causing gamblers lose millions and leaving a spot for the Swiss skater Christophe Giacometti, who has been luring right behind Nikiforov’s back for years. Looks like he finally got his happy coincidence, taking gold after Nikiforov’s bad performance._

_Typically for this season, Nikiforov’s team withdrew from comments during the press conference, announcing that they will release an official statement after coming back to Russia. Giacometti was also reserved about his win, though we have to give him credit for being at the peak of his abilities compared to his previous performances of the season. Giacometti’s trainer, Josef Karpisek, admitted during the conference that Christophe was working especially hard before the season started, well aware of the competition that young skaters in the senior division make, mentioning among others Jean-Jack Leroy, whom along with Nikiforov the season didn’t spare, and Nikiforov’s young rink mate Yuri Plisetsky._

_Previous gossips about the last two and scissions on the Petersburg rink seem to be confirmed after we got a show of weird behaviour in the skaters’ area after Nikiforov’s last performance. He took silver while Plisetsky took bronze, significantly improving his abilities during the period between Barcelona Grand Prix Final and Europeans, but wasn’t able to reach Nikiforov’s level, which lose must be even more bitter with few points apart from Nikiforov’s score._

_Particularly suspicious is Plisetsky’s short program, difficult and demanding, build over a topic that would suit better an older skater and hard to get points for presentation. Even more suspicious is the fact that Nikiforov himself was to choreograph the routine, which leaves us questioning his intentions. Did he gave the boy an ambitious program to work with, or was he trying to sabotage his younger competitor for a season to keep his place on top? While the trainer of both the Russian medallists claims it was Plisetsky himself who chose the song and asked specifically for it, making Nikiforov work hard to make it into a smart, challenging program, the rumours over the skating community prove different._

_Nikiforv’s lucky star loses its power this season. Not only did he brake his win strike, but it’s over a year since his fans noticed he became withdrawn from the community and only seen during his official sponsors’ events. That being said, one of the representatives of Nikiforov’s sponsors, who asked to stay anonymous, said that they consider moving onto younger blood after the end of the season, depending on the results._

_On top of the unpleasant news from the outside, Nikiforov seems to have trouble even within Russia. At the end of the year a record of the Petersburg team quarrelling after the Russian Nationals went viral, where trainer Feltsman was yelling at Plisetsky and Nikiforov, while his ex-wife, Lilia Baranovskaya, was trying to calm dawn all three of them, according to the witnesses unsuccessfully. That video left the skating community uncertain, but the next evening Nikiforov appeared at the gala fresh and flashing with his usual, self-confident smile, so the case went forgotten till now._

_Latest news suggest that Nikiforov might have left Petersburg after Nationals for a longer period of time, but no one in his team is willing to confirm the information. It stays a fact though that all his social media were silent for over two weeks, which is the longest period of time since Nikiforov, usually willing to share bits of his life with fans, started his accounts._

Yakov threw the newspaper onto his desk, looking furiously from Victor to Yuri and back.

“It’s only one.” He said, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. “Only one of the printed, English rugs, and believe me there’s more. Every sports magazine from New York to damn Kamchatka wrote about it!”

Victor was worried about it but he’d bet his skates that he was worried for a completely different reason than Yakov.

“You have to get your shit together or the competition will destroy you at Worlds!” The coach yelled, then calmed down a little. “Do you understand that, Vitya?”

Victor nodded.

“Hey, and what about me?” Yuri asked, refusing to be ignored.

“We” Yakov said “will talk about it at home.”

“So why did I have to come and sit here with you?”

“To see what you don’t want to experience in the future.”

* * *

_2nd of February, Detroit_

“Victuuri, don’t eat that!” Phichit moaned and took the hamster the last moment before it managed to climb into Yuuri’s salted peanuts can.

“I still can’t believe you called him that.” Yuuri said, resigned, as after a week he got used to the name.

“I couldn’t just call him Victor after the founder, right? And you said yourself he loved the name.” Phichit put Victuuri back to the cage.

“Whatever.” Yuuri murmured from one of the last papers in his life. He guessed it was still better than being called Zamboni, like the other unfortunate rodent. Anyway, Victor loved both of the names, so whom was Yuuri to question that?

“How’s Victor, by the way?” Phichit asked looking into the cage.

“Fine just… busy, I think.” Yuuri said. “Or maybe I’m busy. We’re kind of settled now but I don’t have much time. But Victor doesn’t mind too much, so I guess he’s busy too.”

“Busy.” Phichit murmured to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The Thai sighed, still looking into the cage. “It’s nothing.”

* * *

_2nd of February, Petersburg_

He couldn’t do that. Once he faced it he knew he wouldn’t be able to continue, deep inside forced to comfort and get back on the despiteful but safe track.

One thing was real, one thing he learnt from his loss that made the fail worth it, at least the one single time. He would never be enough. No matter how much he’d try, no difference what the outcome would be, he wouldn’t be enough, and that pained him the most, made his heart ache so much that it was almost comparable with the void that being far away from the love of his life made. He realised that maybe he was always trying so much not for the art itself and the happiness of winning, but out of fear what would happen if he lost. It was such a faraway memory he didn’t remember, but it seemed obvious that if victory wasn’t enough, failing was neither.

In the end, all his trials of expressing how little he cared led him to auto sabotage and left alone, not even capable of neglecting skating out of pure spite towards Yakov.

He took a tissue and expectorated half chewed chocolate that he couldn’t force himself to swallow. Then he took another two pieces from the chocolate bar to repeat the process. He lost count of tissues he wasted like that a while ago.

The sweet, sickening taste was mixing with his salty tears that he eagerly collected with his tongue. It was a relief even, to his sugar abused tongue, but Victor couldn’t stop himself until the entire chocolate bar ended up half-chewed and hidden in ugly tissues and his tears stopped falling, probably from dehydration.

When drying an entire bottle of water didn’t help to get rid of the dull, sickening taste form his mouth, he made himself coffee, drank it burning his tongue a little and fell asleep under all of his blankets.

Makka didn’t left his side till morning, when he had to get up and put himself together to face his coach.

Opposite to Victor’s expectation’s, Yakov had forgotten about the lose the next day. Maybe forgotten wasn’t the best word to describe it, because now Victor had close to zero time to work on his own, as Yakov barely believed he could be trusted being left on his own. He didn’t mention it anymore or brought any newspapers though. Instead, he assigned Victor a personal assistant coach who was by his side every minute of his rink time, recording and noting his every move, Victor was sure of that, and following him even to the gym. Victor would protest if only he had the power to do so.

It wasn’t much better when he was coming back home because, no matter how absurd it seemed, Yakov hired Lena. Yakov. _Hired. LENA._ To come every evening at scheduled time and make sure he was eating dinner from the boxes. That was ridiculous! How had Yakov even come up with the idea, had Victor been babbling too much about Makka been well taken care of, or what? Was that how Yura felt when he complained they treated him like a child? Because what, he wasn’t responsible enough even to control his diet? Fine, maybe he wasn’t, but that was two weeks ago, when even looking at food wasn’t making him sick.

To top it all, Victor was conflicted because of Yuuri. If he’d used to think there’d been two of them, the show-off Victor and the muted emotional one, now he was reaching the point of simulated split personality, as he felt like there were two of him for real. One that was disappointed with himself, with the fake smile glued to his face that he hated so much at pictures, that gave up on trying to change and gave his body back to Yakov’s unforgiving methods. And one that was cheerful and always happy, the one that was only there when he was talking to Yuuri. The problem was, Victor didn’t know which one was real, as none of them felt fake. Said Victor Nikiforov, who’s been lying to his boyfriend about his identity ever since.

Speaking of whom, it was over a week after Europeans when Victor could have finally felt like he could breathe with relief and assume that Yuuri wouldn’t accidentally find some news about him, because form Victor’s perspective they’d been everywhere. Everybody knew. Even the bakery lady.

Two weeks passed in that manner, two weeks of constant supervision and tossing between training facilities, his therapist’s office, whom advice Victor was stubbornly ignoring, and the front of screen to smile to his Yuuri. Two weeks after which it almost felt like a routine and Victor was slowly regaining his previous form.

After two weeks Yuuri had sent him a photo of his tired but happy face after his final exam, with his dancing partner goofing in the background and asked if he could call. And that’s how Victor ended in the toiled at the back of the rink, hiding from the assistant coach and cheering for Yuuri, the only thing that was bringing any emotions into his otherwise empty heart, and making yet another crack when Yuuri asked him if he would visit him in France in March and there was only one answer Victor could give him.

He couldn’t.

In April, he promised, feeling his heart beat faster. The would visit Yuuri in April.

* * *

_14th of February, Detroit_

“Skates?”

“Packed.”

“Costumes?”

“Folded at the bottom of my suitcase.”

“Passport?”

“Here.” Phichit patted his chest.

“Wallet?”

“In my carry on.”

“Hamster food?”

“In the top drawer and more in the box under my bed.”

“Happy kick in your ass?”

Phichit turned around and stack out his butt. “Delivering itself? Hey, why two times!?”

“I won’t be there to kick you before Worlds, so you have to take both now.” Yuuri shrugged.

“Fiiine.” Phichit said, ready to leave. “Now my turn.”

Yuuri looked at him sceptically.

“Your turn of what?”

Phichit smiled terribly.

“Your training bag?”

“Why…”

“Your training bag?”

“Peach…”

“Don’t make it longer or I’ll be late. Where’s your training bag?”

Yuuri stared at Phichit, wandering if his friend didn’t get crazy, put pointed at the empty bag by his bed.

“Here.”

“Good.” Phichit said. “Your phone?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and waved his phone in front of Phichit’s eyes.

“Perfect. Put it into the bag. Towel and water bottle?”

“Peach why…”

“I said don’t make it longer. Just pack them.”

Yuuri, resigned, did as Phichit told him, whatever it was for.

“Hair gel and comb?”

Yuuri gave up, went to their tiny bathroom and brought them too.

“Perfect.” Phichit grinned. “And you’ll also need your costume from the America’s Got Talent Eliminations.”

“I… What? What are you up to, Peach?”

“I’m up to saving your ass, and you should be at least a little grateful, for real, Yuuri.”

“And what that has to do with saving it? It’s more like… Like presenting it to…”

“You’ve got a point.” Phichit said. “I know you had a few hard weeks, but it’s over, Yuuri, how can you be that forgetful?”

“I’m not forgetful.” Yuuri said flatly.

“Yes. Yes you are. You know what day is today?”

“Sunday.” Yuuri said, sure at least of that.

“And?”

“And what?”

Phichit looked up to the ceiling .

“You really are worth each other. It’s 14th of February, moron. Valentine’s Day.”

“I… Ah… Oh.” Yuuri said finally. He didn’t think of that. He hadn’t had to think of that never before. And he didn’t know if it was a thing in Russia, since it wasn’t quite the same in Japan, so maybe in Russia neither, but now that he’s been living here in the US for five years and having Phichit as a source of any local information. How could have he forgotten? “But why…”

“Finally.” Phichit said. “So now that you know what that’s all for, get out of your pyjama and go to the hot date with Angela and her camera that I set up for you.”

“Peach, I’m not doing this.”

“But whyyy?” Phichit asked, elongating the last sound with anguish. “Why can’t you just cooperate?”

“Because you always come up with something that makes me look like… You know.” Yuuri leaned to rummage through a box of clothes under his bed and eventually took out a bundle of black material decorated with silver zirconia. “Like this. And then you upload it and share with whomever.”

“I didn’t share the last one with whomever!” Phichit protested. “I only sent it to Victor because you obviously had no gut to do that yourself…”

“Still…”

“…so for once listen to the good advice from Papa Peach, pack your bag and run to the studio.”

“The last time I listened to your _good advice _Victor opened a box with my half naked photo on a stripper pole next to his _students_.”

“Students.” Phichit giggled, because Phichit was a terrible person like that. “Yeah, you’re right. Which lead you to finally admit in front of each other that you’re a couple, I’m the worst adviser you could have.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but Phichit’s phone beeped.

“You know what?” Phichit said. “My coach’s waiting down there and the club is more or less in the same direction, so we’ll give you a lift before you change your mind. Come on.”

And Yuuri came, because he didn’t feel like discussing it any longer. He could always just leave the car and come back home before even entering the club building and Phichit wouldn’t be there to stop him. But there was a part of him, part that he didn’t want to admit existed, that was excited about the idea. Why this costume of all things, though?

“Good morning.” Yuuri said opening the car door and was greeted by a smile from Phichit’s coach, Celestino.

“Hi, Yuuri. You haven’t been coming to the airport for a while.”

“Well, I…”

“He’s not coming to the airport.” Phichit said, shutting the door behind himself. “We’re dropping him by Fit Heaven.”

“Where?” Asked a woman on the driver’s seat that Yuuri haven’t met before.

“I’ll tell you where to go, it’s on the way.” Celestino said. “How are you feeling, Phichit?” He asked.

“Fine.” 

“Nervous?”

“Not yet.” Phichit shrugged but only Yuuri could see this.

“Good.” Celestino said. “Turn left on the second crossing… You should look out for Leroy and Altin but you never know this season. After the affair at Euro…”

“Hey, Celestino, have you seen the clip with Yuuri?” Phichit said suddenly and Yuuri couldn’t withdraw from kicking him.

“I was over two months ago.” Yuuri whispered. “You could stop talking about it every five minutes.”

“You haven’t seen each other since last summer.” Phichit whispered back and grinned.

“No?” Celestino said. “I don’t think so?”

“Here.” Phichit handed him his phone.

“Oh! This! Is that really you?!” Celestino turned to them and lined the phone with Yuuri for comparison.

All Yuuri felt up to in response was hiding his red face in his hands.

* * *

_14th of February, Petersburg_

Lying limply on his bed and feeling as if all his muscles were beaten like a schnitzel Victor realised he hadn’t been so glad to have a rest day for ages. He was just lying there for most of the Sunday doing nothing, no movies, no reading, no talking, not even being sad, nothing, because he just wanted to sleep and let his body regenerate. Which only proved how much he’d gone off track the last weeks. He shouldn’t have let himself reach the point, never, and definitely not in the middle of the season.

He would just lie there the entire day, take his girl for a short walk, feed her, and lie more. But Yakov, that damn old man, somehow had foreseen even that, and before Victor could even wake up on his own Lena knocked to force breakfast into him at scheduled, way too early to his liking hour. Couldn’t she just take the money and leave him alone with his dreams?

For some reason except for their usual good morning Yuuri was silent that day, but Victor was fine with that. He didn’t feel capable even of typing too much, utilizing all of his energy on dog walks, refilling Makka’s bowls and eating. At this point of exhaustion the boxed food wasn’t even that bad. And then he was coming back to bed to smile sleepily to his wall of Yuuris, hug a pillow and nap.

A beep announced a new massage, followed by two others and fourth after a longer break, so Victor lazily reached for his phone and suspecting nothing unlocked it.

**Yuuri:** I know it’s a little bit late but

**Yuuri:** Happy Valentine’s Day <3

**Yuuri:** <3 ;*

**Yuuri:** *a video attached*

Victor opened it and saw Yuuri’s smiling face looking a little aside from the camera. He didn’t have glasses on and his hair was combed back. One of the strands escaped to his forehead when he finally looked into camera, winked and send a kiss. Then he moved back, so that the frame could contain his whole body, and Victor could see a familiar dance studio with poles permanently attached. But what drew his attention was Yuuri, wearing Victor’s favourite costume among all he’s seen on the records available in internet, but now the clear crystals were sparkling with reflexed blue light coming from aside.

Victor whimpered, sat up and drew the phone closer, determined not to miss a single second of the show. The exhaustion he’d been feeling since the morning made place for excitement and Victor stopped pressing replay only when Lena came to announce his last meal. She had to knock twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The atmosphere was getting so dense and overwhelming on Victor’s side that it was screaming for a counterbalance and Valentines just happened to be there (because it wasn’t in my writing schedule to be honest) I drew a calendar for this fic a while ago to put actual dates of events for 2016 because otherwise I’d be completely lost and like… Oh. 14th of February. Perfect. At the same time I didn’t want to move anything from the next chapter, even to balance this, so have some kind of filler, sorry.
> 
> I decided to use actual date for Vancouver Olympics etc. and in general I spend way too much time of figuring out dates and timetables than actual writing, so if you feel like in the end I might have miscalculated sth from the past, please let me know :>
> 
> Fun fact, but building the plot over the original schedules of the events <s>because I’m too lazy to figure them out myself</s> Victor not being able to talk to Chris in the previous chapter is the actual fate >_<
> 
> See you soon, this time for real or even see you tomorrow if you read my second fic ;>

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://chubbyskater.tumblr.com/)   



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